


Supposing You Agreed

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Star Trek The Gentle Seasons Series [46]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caer Ibormeith, Casual Sex, Celtic Goddess Of Sleep And Dreams, Clueless Spock, Confused Kirk, Crew as Family, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daydreaming, Defensive McCoy, Developing Relationship, Diplomatic Kirk, Drinking & Talking, Explicit Language, Fantasizing, Fingering, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Food Issues, Forehead Touching, Forgive Me, Forgiveness, From Sex to Love, Harshness, Heavy Angst, Helpful Spock, Humble McCoy, Innuendo, Intercrural Sex, Kissing, Lap Sitting, Light Angst, Linear Experience, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Meditation, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Naked Cuddling, Neglect, Nervous Chapel, Odd Circumstances On The Bridge, Old Fashioned McCoy, Pining Spock, Preoccupied Spock, Ranting McCoy, Sad Crew, Sensuous Water, Sex Positions, Sex Talk, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Fatigue, Shower Sex, Showers, Skimpy clothing, Sleep Deprivation, Sleepiness, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy McCoy, Some Humor, Sorry McCoy, Southern Belle McCoy, Spooning, Spring, Teasing, Touching, Unusual Requests, Voyeur Kirk, Water Sex, White-On-White Dotted Swiss, Wise Kirk, degrading, dereliction of duty, fatigue, scheming mccoy, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-03-04 21:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18820903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: It's Springtime on Terran when birds sing and all of Mother Nature's creatures fall in love.  And it seems to have also affected Leonard McCoy despite the fact that he is somewhere deep in space on the USS Enterprise.  But why should he let that fact stop him in his quest for some casual sex with a certain self-proclaimed emotionless Vulcan?  After all, it won't mean anything to either of them anyway, will it?McCoy recruits Spock for a physical relationship, but ignores one very important component.





	1. McCoy Makes A Bad Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy forms a convoluted plan to bed Spock and announces that fact to Kirk.

And then there was the time that Leonard McCoy decided that he wanted-- no, he decided that he needed-- some casual sex in his life. No strings attached, no heartbreak at the end, no sad songs sung by either party. Just some good, old-fashioned fun times in bed and then fare-thee-well, been nice knowing ya, don't let the door hit ya on that beautiful butt on your way out my door. We'll be in it for the short haul, not the long. Anytime you're in town, look me up for a rematch if you're willing. Or not. No diff to me. Shouldn't be to you, either. And don't even think that you gotta remember my birthday or holidays or other sentimental occasions like that. There was nothing ever serious going on here between us anyway. It wasn't like we really meant anything lasting or special to each other or anything stupid like that. So don't go falling in love with me 'cause you're only gonna get hurt. 'Cause I sure as hell ain't setting myself up for a broken heart! Ol' love'm and leave'm McCoy will strike again! Just as soon as he can get some action lined up. And that's gonna be pretty damn soon, if he had anything to say about it!

Yes, sir, McCoy thought as he bounced on the balls of his feet with satisfaction twinkling in his eyes. It's Springtime on Terran and I might as well celebrate it by getting laid. And who better to have as a bedroom partner than my old sparring buddy Spock. After all, he's the last one who would want to get any of his emotions involved, either. Isn't that what he's always bleating? I am the master of my feelings, the captain of my soul, the center of my universe, complete unto myself, and other hogwash of that caliber. One thing's for damned sure, I wouldn't have to worry about him getting all sticky about relationships. Isn't Spock the one who is always doing his imitation of The Great Stone Face? With feelings to match? The Vulcan would probably hit a bedroom acting the same way he always lands anywhere else: stalwart, stony, and subdued. His toothbrush in his breast pocket and a spare pair of undies hanging out the back. No need for a nighty 'cause we ain't gonna be messing with them anyway. Make way 'cause the human computer is here to participate in some mindless rutting.

It'd probably be like getting fucked by a fence post to have Spock shoving it at him.

McCoy grimaced as his nether regions gave a jerk of rebellion as that realistic image of ritualistic lovemaking was suggested to it. Maybe he'd been around the literal Vulcan too long, but the prospects of what he'd just proposed for himself would probably make them both cringe-- McCoy because of what he would be receiving and Spock because of his concern about the welfare of his friend's backside. Spock would never consciously hurt his friend, but McCoy was also pretty certain that Spock would perform a task rigorously once it was assigned to him. So maybe there was wisdom in McCoy being the one to be cautious. Spock might not know his own strength or powers. Hard telling just how endowed Spock might be or how enthusiastically he would (gulp) tear into his assigned task of satisfying McCoy's sexual fantasies. It might even get dangerous!

It could almost turn a guy against the whole idea of getting a little something on the side. After all, McCoy still wanted to be able to make his serious daily bathroom visits to keep the little McCoy system humming along in a prudent and practical manner. Didn't want that getting all clogged up, especially if he was interested in keeping all channels clear for any potential green Vulcan torpedoes that might be headed his way. And there was always the danger of Spock spraining something (May the gods forbid!), or of at least straining muscles that probably didn't get used in the manner that McCoy had in mind for them to get used.

Yes, McCoy was beginning to have second thoughts about bending over in front of a human jackhammer just to see what sort of reaction he could get. He doubted if even Spock could be that neutral and dispassionate if a defenseless flower suddenly blossomed two steps ahead of him in a compromising position. Even a cool-headed, principled Vulcan might throw caution to the wind and then throw McCoy onto the nearest flat surface to satisfy his newly discovered lusts.

Hmm. Maybe cooler heads should prevail here. Maybe he and Spock should just have some staid intercourse to let off a little steam, and then be on their separate ways again. All prim and proper and controlled and sedate. And safe. (Yawn.)

That idea didn't seem to appeal to McCoy, either, but it was a few notches up on the pleasure scale from the human jackhammer proposal.

But something else in his thinking seemed to be a little off for McCoy. Where was the excitement in his scenario? Where was the adventure? The romance? The damn joy?! The humping, mindless sex?!

Yeah, McCoy had to admit it. He wanted something more than just letting off a little sexual steam. Otherwise, he might as well go to a whorehouse that kept a stable of guys who were eager to please their clientele. McCoy was bound to find a lot of action there.

But that wasn't what McCoy was after, either. He wanted-- something, something he couldn't quite name. He wanted glitter and excitement and romance and not knowing what was going to happen next. But how could he get something like that if this upcoming (no pun intended) series of events seemed like something he had contrived?

Then McCoy knew. He decided to sweeten the experience, and he knew just what it would entail. He wanted the conquest to be Spock's, not his. He wanted to be wooed and won. He would not be the aggressor, just the prize to be seduced by the raging bull Vulcan. McCoy bet that Spock could come unhinged if he got stirred up enough romantically. Generations of Vulcans had shoved (no pun intended) their primitive instincts on the backburner, but McCoy bet those instincts were still simmering somewhere in the back of Spock's libido, just waiting to burst forth (still no pun intended) toward anyone lucky enough to be in direct line of its lusty thrust (pun intended).

Wow! Where did that jolt to his nether regions just come from? Could he actually have gotten himself aroused just by thinking about sexual gymnastics?! Wow! Wow! Double wow, wow! Maybe he really was ready to be laid. Uh, seduced. Uh, won. Gotta use the right words here, McCoy. After all, you want a romantic experience, don't you?

Whatever McCoy decided, it made him bounce on the balls of his feet again and even get a pleased, pussycat grin on his face. McCoy was on a roll. Now all he had to do was to get seduced by a certain Vulcan who would make McCoy see the joys of tumbling into bed with him. Yes, sir, that might cause all sorts of scenarios to cross McCoy's fertile mind, and they all involved one sexually stirred up Vulcan determined to bed him.

Hmm, might be an interesting Spring, after all. And certainly a, uh, active one.

McCoy chuckled to himself. Or so he thought.

"My goodness, but you are in a good mood today, Doctor," a cheerful voice said, breaking into his reverie.

The daydream of having Spock and his endowments under his control disappeared. McCoy pulled himself back from his romantic scheming. Apparently he hadn't chuckled to himself as much as he thought he had, if Chapel was answering him. Then he remembered that he was in sickbay and not somewhere private. He was glad that he hadn't been questioned about his sudden freezing in place while all sorts of lurid romantic scenarios had been flashing through his creative mind. But now it was time to acknowledge what had just been said to him, or he would be on report for certain.

Psychiatric report.

McCoy gave her a coy smile as mischief danced in his eyes. "It's Springtime on Terran, Chapel! Mother Nature is waking up!"

"Well, something certainly is," Chapel agreed in awe. Seeing McCoy in a good mood was a plus to her day. Seeing McCoy exuberant was almost unheard of. What next? Dancing in the street? Whatever was behind McCoy's pleasantness, she certainly blessed it. And her undying thanks to it went beyond all known bounds.

McCoy looked interested. "What are grinning about, Chapel? You look like the cat that ate the cream."

Since McCoy was in such a good mood, Chapel felt smug herself. "Oh, as you said, Doctor. It's Springtime on Terran, and love is in the air."

She'd certainly said the right thing that time, for McCoy broke out in a broad grin. If he could have, he would've crowed. The way he was acting, he came close to doing that very thing. "Indeed, it is, Chapel. Indeed, it is."

And that answer and that grin made Chapel begin to wonder if her superior had more than a casual interest in the softening change of the weather on Terran. He was acting like a man in love with love.

Chapel didn't know how close to the truth she was.

 

"Just look at him walking away," McCoy commanded as he sat with Jim Kirk in the mess hall. "Have you ever seen anything like that? Wouldn't you think that anything looking like that shouldn't be walking around as free and easy as he is? Nobody should be looking that good in a Starfleet uniform. Nobody!" He sounded like he was describing the Holy Grail and several of the leading Archangels all rolled into one. His voice was filled with awe and thanksgiving and downright lust.

Puzzled, Kirk looked up from his tray. Granted, he had to admit that he had been paying more attention to his beef stew than what had been recently said, but he thought that he hadn't missed that much of the conversation. Apparently he had, though. So he tried to hide that fact by acting like he knew what the hell that McCoy was talking about now, even though he didn't have a clue.

The only thing that Kirk could see that McCoy could possibly have spotted was Spock walking away from them. Spock had just excused himself to check on something before rejoining Kirk on the bridge for the rest of their shift. Up until then, the three senior officers had been partaking a normal meal together. Oh, there might have been a little bickering between Spock and McCoy, but that was nothing new. Kirk couldn't remember for sure what had been discussed between them. He generally let the verbal jousts of his friends roll off him without paying much attention. As far as he was concerned, it was verbal static, a kind of white noise that had a soothing quality for Kirk. It was all perfectly normal until a moment ago when McCoy had opened his mouth and said something that Kirk would've never guessed would be coming out of McCoy's mouth. Until it did.

And what McCoy had said about Spock's physique had sounded very suggestive, like McCoy had the hots for Spock or something stupid like that. But that couldn't be. We're talking Spock and McCoy here. But the leer on McCoy's face seemed to echo his lurid words.

Kirk had definitely missed something in the discussion.

Kirk tried not to blink as he studied his companion and accepted the obvious. "Dr. McCoy, are you ogling my First Officer?" He couldn't quite adjust McCoy's behavior now to what he had just witnessed between McCoy and Spock all during their lunch. To have listened to those two guys, the casual observer might've assumed that the naming of the time and place of their duel would be settled next. Not what McCoy apparently had on his mind now.

Kirk tried again. "And why? Why are you ogling him?"

McCoy turned back to Kirk and leaned toward him in a conspiratorial manner. "Isn't he about the hottest piece of merchandise you've seen lately?"

Yep, Kirk had heard right. He glanced over in time to see Spock disappearing out the door. The Vulcan looked the same as he had for the last two thousand days that Captain Kirk had been observing him. "There's gotta be something I missed," Kirk muttered to himself. Then he raised his head and gave McCoy a bemused look as he did a mental head shake. "Or have you suddenly been replaced by a different Leonard McCoy, and I just didn't see the switch? Perhaps I'm being punished for paying more attention to what's on my plate instead of what else is going on around me. That's it, isn't it? I'm being punished for my gluttony."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" McCoy snapped with blazing eyes.

"That makes two of us," Kirk muttered.

"Try to stay on the subject here!"

"I'm just having trouble figuring out what the subject is," Kirk muttered back, sounding as lost as he felt.

McCoy's blazing eyes emphasized his words. "I'm talking Spock! In all his glory! That's the subject!"

Kirk shrugged. "That's what I thought you were talking about."

"Well, try to catch up! This isn't exactly rocket science we're talking here! It's more like sex appeal! And damn appealing sex appeal!"

"You'll have to give me a minute. I apparently missed a blend in the conversation. And definitely a change in attitude on your part about Spock and his attributes. Ah, mind explaining what has inspired this new attraction for you?"

McCoy pulled back. "It's Spring!"

"Well, yeah. In certain places it is, I suppose."

"It's Spring on Terran! Where it counts!"

"Certain places on Terran; yes." Kirk frowned, then leaned toward McCoy. "Ah, what does Spring in the Northern Hemisphere on Terran have to do with us here on the Enterprise? Or is it just an excuse?"

"Spring can be a certain mindset, don't you believe?"

"Well, yeah. So can believing in fairies that live at the bottom of the hill." He gave McCoy a penetrating look. "Is this new interest in Mr. Spock and his amazing physique sorta in that category? Gotta lot of fairytale quality about it? You know, wish upon a star time and all that sorta thing?"

McCoy frowned. "What the hell have you been smoking, Kirk?! You're blathering like a jaded jackass. I suppose next you'll be foaming at the mouth, then you'll be my problem."

Kirk frowned, too. "Funny, I was alright when I came in here." He gave McCoy a penetrating look. "And I was alright, up until the time that Mr. Spock left. Then everything got sorta hazy and topsy-turvy. And it all started when you made your startling announcement about Spock as he walked away."

"Well, hold onto your hat, Captain Kirk! Things are about to get more exciting around here! I just wanted to give you fair warning."

"Thanks." Kirk frowned. "I think. If I just understood the last several minutes better, I'd feel more in control."

"You just fly your pretty little spaceship and don't pay any attention to what you might see or hear from Spock and me."

"Thanks for giving me a head's up." Kirk turned aside to stare at the floor. "I think I'm going to need it."


	2. McCoy Lures Spock Into His Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy lures Spock into his quarters, then has to play the sweet, fragile maiden to get some action out of him. Too bad his act doesn't work the way he thought that it would.

At his doorway, McCoy gave Spock a grateful look as he batted his eyes at him in a flirty way. "That was awfully nice of you to help me back with these books, Mr. Spock. I think that I wouldn't have been strong enough to have gotten them here all by myself."

"I believe that a cart might have been more expedient for your purposes," Spock remarked logically. "Especially if you could not have found me to help with these heavy tomes."

"Oh, but I did find you, didn't I?" McCoy simpered. "So everything worked out just hunky-dory, didn't it?" His closed mouth smile was overly sweet, and he batted his eyelashes again for good measure.

Spock was puzzled by McCoy's cloying behavior. And McCoy's language and use of slang terms was very confusing. Hunky-dory? Whatever could that term mean? But something else had Spock worried more than McCoy's behavior and language usage, and that problem needed to be addressed as quickly as possible. "Doctor, are you experiencing a problem with your eyes? I find it very disconcerting."

"Hmm?" McCoy continued his deep gazing into Spock's dark eyes and really wasn't paying attention to what Spock was asking him. Then McCoy fluttered his eyelashes again as he simpered.

"There! There it is again!"

"Where?" McCoy wondered, using his normal voice and looking around. For one blazing moment, he realized that he and Spock had reversed roles.

"Your eyelids keep moving up and down in a most disturbing manner, Doctor. Are you under some undue stress? Could you possibly be needing more sleep? Or does it indicate something of a far more significant nature? Are you experiencing something of a neurological origin?" Spock looked alarmed. "Surely you are not having a hemifacial spasm! That would be a serious condition indeed and would require that you should seek out an eye specialist immediately to ascertain--"

"But--"

"Leave it."

Spock looked like he wanted to object again.

"Just...." McCoy held out a pleading hand. "Just leave it. Okay? It will be alright."

Spock didn't look convinced.

This was getting McCoy nowhere. In fact, he was further behind than when he and Spock had walked into McCoy's quarters. And now Spock was talking them into a major crisis.

Sometimes the only way to deal with the Vulcan was to steam ahead at full speed and try not to tidy up all of the misunderstandings in their wake.

"Forget my eyes."

"But--"

"I appreciate your concern, but I had another purpose for having you accompany me to my quarters," he said, plowing ahead and hoping for the best.

Spock knitted his dark eyebrows. "Oh?"

“Supposing I said that I wanted you--” McCoy let his voice trail off in a very suggestive manner while his eyes tried to fill in the space with saucy innuendoes.

He’d invited Spock to his quarters, hoping that Spock would seize on the opportunity of their being alone to make THE move on McCoy. It wasn’t as if McCoy hadn’t been leaving what he thought were sufficient clues of his interest in a personal relationship with Spock. Several days had passed with no results of his broad hints and flirty looks. He figured that anybody should be able to pick up on his hints.

Then McCoy remembered whom he was working with and pursed his lips. He realized that he would have to make a bolder move, thus the fragile maiden and the heavy books which needed moving to his quarters.

Spock stood looking thoughtful as he waited for McCoy to finish his sentence. Finally he asked, “Supposing you said that you wanted me, what?”

“Just that.”

Spock’s thoughtful look was replaced with a puzzled frown. “Just, what? What is it that you wish from me?”

“You,” McCoy answered in a voice suddenly gone husky. To say it out loud again seemed awfully brazen. And direct. But surely the Vulcan understood him this time.

The Vulcan didn’t.

Instead, something else had caught Spock's attention. And concern.

“Have you inadvertently developed a catarrh in your throat, Doctor? First your eyes and now your throat seem to be afflicted. Whatever could that indicate?”

McCoy's patience broke. “Have you suddenly broken out with an attack of stupid?!” he barked.

“I am sorry, Doctor, but I do not recognize that ailment.”

“You should,” McCoy muttered. “Since you’re displaying all the classic symptoms of it.”

“Perhaps you could rephrase your request. Perhaps then I would understand what you want me to do for you.”

“I want you to take me to bed.”

Spock blinked. “Have you suddenly developed more symptoms than the catarrh in your throat? Are you suddenly feeling weaker?”

McCoy decided to go for it and stopped trying to explain. “Yeah. I’m suddenly feeling weaker.”

“What do you suppose is causing your sudden weakness?”

“'It's just the nearness of you,'” McCoy answered, acting coy and quoting the catch line of the old love song.

Spock stepped backwards.

“Where the hell are you going?!”

“I thought that you said that my nearness was causing you to become weaker.”

“It is. I’m weak all over, but mainly in the knees.”

“Will you be able to stand?” Spock asked, alarmed.

“Not for much longer.”

“What can I do for your weakness?”

“Like I said, take me to bed.” He bent his knees as if to illustrate how much he was becoming weaker.

Spock grabbed his arm. “Your condition is worsening!”

“Yeah. I may go down at any moment." He gave Spock a come-hither look. "Although I’d rather you did,” he declared brazenly with a pulse wildly beating in his neck.

Spock frowned. “Doctor? I do not understand.”

Perhaps it was best that Spock did not understand. It might be expecting too much to request that Spock perform fellatio on McCoy so soon into their new relationship.

“Just an idiom,” McCoy muttered as a signal to forget that line of dialogue.

Idiom, my sweet ass! You’re such a bad boy, McCoy thought of himself.

But Spock had moved on. “Here. Let me help you.” Spock tightened his grip on McCoy's arm and meant to propel McCoy to his bed.

But McCoy didn't want to go under his own steam. He wanted Spock handling him as much as possible. “I don’t think I can make it that far,” he gasped in a quivering voice, then looked up with pleading calf eyes. “Carry me.” He slumped slightly.

Spock’s eyes widened in alarm, then he scooped his one arm under McCoy’s knees and swung his body up into his arms with the same ease he would’ve used to lift a dozen roses.

“Oh, you are so strong,” McCoy cooed as he snuggled his head into Spock’s chest. What drivel, he thought. But if it goads Spock into action, McCoy could even pretend to faint a little.

Why the hell not?! This might be a good spot for a weak maiden to swoon in the arms of her strong lover.

McCoy sighed, relaxed his body, and slumped against Spock like so much dead weight.

Of course, that action really alarmed Spock. “Doctor!”

“Bed,” McCoy begged softly. “Get me to bed.” He ‘swooned’ again.

Spock rushed his burden to McCoy’s bed and gently lay McCoy on it.

“May I get anything for you?” Spock asked softly and with concern as he hovered over the prone doctor.

McCoy had arranged himself in a fetching pose after a few moments of sensuous undulating that should've primed the sexual juices of any onlooker. Any onlooker except Spock, that is.

Then Spock pushed himself upward so he could fetch whatever was needed.

“Don’t leave me!” McCoy begged as he gripped Spock’s arm, then pulled him back down.

“I will not, if that is what you wish.” Spock bit his lips. "If only I knew what to do to help you--"

“I wish for you to lie beside me!” McCoy declared boldly. "Make me feel safe!" He did not designate from what. Hopefully, Spock wouldn't ask, either.

Thankfully, Spock was off on another tack. “But there is not enough room--”

“There will be if we scrunch up!"

Spock looked dubious as he eyeballed the space available on McCoy's bed. He didn't seem too optimistic about being able to fill McCoy's request.

"Come on, Spock! Be a buddy!" Then he got the coy look back on his face again. "I'd help you this way if you needed me,” he wheedled.

Well, that's all it took. Spock didn't want to disappoint McCoy, especially when McCoy was counting so much on his help. Gingerly Spock lowered himself onto the narrow cot until he was lying stretched out on his side next to McCoy. “This cannot be very comfortable for you,” Spock remarked. He knew that he was not comfortable, therefore McCoy must not be, either.

“It’s just perfect!” McCoy lied as he struggled to remain on the narrow portion he had allotted for himself. If he relaxed at all, he would tumble off backwards, thus spoiling any romantic mood.

“You will fall,” Spock declared and pulled McCoy toward him.

Why hadn’t he thought of that, McCoy wondered as he landed with a thud against Spock’s chest. That was great enough, but then McCoy felt Spock’s lower regions slammed against his. Now THAT was really interesting! Especially when McCoy figured what part of Spock was scrunched up against his nether regions. McCoy didn't need logic or medical knowledge to realize that was Spock's nether regions caressing his so nicely. It made McCoy break out in vulgar thoughts as he recited to himself a nearly forgotten bit of doggerel poetry from his salad days.

‘Pricks to pricks,  
'Nuts to nuts;  
‘Won’t get special, though,  
‘Til we join our butts.’

“Excuse me? Did you say something, Doctor?” Spock wanted to know.

Don’t scare him off now, McCoy advised himself. “Nothing. Just thinking hard, I guess.” Yeah, right! Like thinking was what was making him hard! Well, actually, it helped….

Then McCoy got suspicious. “Wait a minute. Can you tell what someone is thinking? Just by touching someone?”

“Sometimes.”

“I’d better be wiping my mind clean then, shouldn’t I?” McCoy pulled back and he must have done it more than physically, because Spock grew alarmed and pulled back, too. And that alarmed McCoy.

“Now what's wrong?” McCoy wanted to know.

“I cannot help you if you withdraw.”

“You’re going to take unfair advantage of me if you can tell what I'm thinking.”

“But you will take advantage of me because you are more adept at handling emotions,” Spock countered.

“No, I’m more adept at living with my emotions. I don’t deny them as you do.” How in the hell had they gotten into this discussion? McCoy didn’t want to talk about emotions. He wanted to free them, Spock's especially. He wanted both of them to free their emotions. He wanted them to go crazy and let the chips fall where they may. He wanted to get physical, down and dirty, and any other euphemism that would cover what two physically attractive people generally do in bed.

"I still cannot help you if you withdraw."

"You're right."

They scooted back into each others' arms.

"This is nice and cozy, Spock," McCoy cooed as he snuggled against Spock's chest. "You're so nice and warm, just like my own personal heating blanket."

McCoy wasn't fibbing there. It was indeed comfortable and cozy being wrapped up in Spock's arms. If he didn't have more plans for Spock that evening, it might have been enough just to go to sleep and feel so sheltered and protected all night. McCoy hadn't realized until he was snug in Spock's arms how he had missed just the physical contact of someone holding him while he readied himself for a long, restful sleep. He felt almost... contented. And he hadn't felt that way in bed for a very long time now. Just to be able to close his eyes and drift off, without a care in the world.... And to feel safe again.... And loved, even if he wasn't....

"I am happy that I am providing comfort for you, Doctor."

McCoy might've been swayed from his original plan if Spock hadn't spoken up and reminded him.

"Is there anything else I might do for you to provide comfort for you?" Spock wanted to know.

McCoy shook his head, trying to rid himself of the blissful dregs of sleep which had almost claimed him. It would've been great just to have surrendered to sleep, if sleep was what he was after. No, it was something else, and he needed to focus on that goal.

Let's do this slowly, McCoy cautioned himself. You've got the Vulcan in your bed, and who would've ever thought that you could've ever gotten that far with him? "Let's just lie here a moment and continue to enjoy our being together like this, shall we?"

"Alright," Spock said slowly as his mind processed that information. He hadn't realized that he was supposed to be enjoying himself. He thought that he had been providing a needed service for a close friend.

McCoy heard the hesitation n Spock's voice and understood he could lose his own personal heating blanket, plus other features that Spock could provide, if he wasn't prudent.

"I want to thank you so very much for doing this for me," McCoy said earnestly. "It really means the world to me, really it does." He knew that he was laying it on a little thick, but subtlety was probably lost on someone like Spock when it came to relationships. While the Vulcan was very intelligent and was great with deductive reasoning, he was an amateur when it came to emotions and therefore concerns of the heart. Now McCoy's biggest worry was not to take advantage of someone that naïve.

Scratch that, McCoy thought wryly. That wasn't his biggest problem at the moment. He had to figure out HOW to take advantage of him.

Oh, hell, he couldn't be that callous! He had to think about Spock, too! If McCoy didn't treat him right, Spock could come out of this incident scarred emotionally for life. McCoy had to treat him right.

But, damn it, didn't he owe something to himself?!

Okay, TWO big problems! Better?!

Damn conscience, he muttered.

Spock frowned. "Why are you cursing at your conscience?"

McCoy glanced at him. "You heard what I was thinking?"

"I sense that you were stirred about something," Spock answered. "It was not that I heard you, per se."

Great! Frustration with my conscience comes across! Sexual need doesn't!

McCoy sighed before he realized that he shouldn't. The radar on the damned Vulcan was probably honed so sensitively by now that Spock was bound to start grilling McCoy about his sighing. And there would go the evening.

No! McCoy decided. The evening had gotten this far. And McCoy was determined to see it end the way he wanted, whether the Vulcan was puzzled, perplexed, or pondering. Just so he got laid.

And McCoy got laid, too!


	3. What Is This Thing Called, Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and McCoy's first time in the bedroom in which they are inept but manage enough of a success that they wish to have more encounters of a physical nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title borrowed from a Benny Hill skit.

Hopefully, the Vulcan wouldn’t pick up on his frustration. When Spock didn’t, McCoy got curious.

“Tell me, Spock, this ability to understand what I’m thinking when you’re touching me, is it selective by chance?”

Spock looked puzzled. “I do not know.” He glanced at McCoy. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering.” Spock's ability sure as hell seemed selective to McCoy. Sure, some things that McCoy was thinking were picked up by Spock. But not all of McCoy's musings were. Odd, McCoy thought. Maybe Spock just had to be concentrating on someone for his telepathic ability to work. Say if he was sitting close to someone on a bus, especially if he was touching that person, would he not be able to read that person's thoughts unless he made an effort not to do so? Say also that this person was scruffy and soiled and smelling to High Heaven, would Spock even wish to learn what such a low-life was thinking? Surely such a person would not be considering some weighty philosophical conundrum. He would probably be more concerned about where his next bottle of booze was coming from. Then McCoy began to wonder why Spock was sitting that close to such an unsavory character, especially why he was allowing that ragamuffin to be that close to his illustrious person. And why we're on the subject, why in the hell is Spock on a bus in the first place?! Granted, he'd have to get around in a city somehow and nobody in their right mind would ever issue Spock a driver's license-- especially to be used in city traffic.

McCoy's sudden silence concerned Spock. He frowned as he studied McCoy's face set in deep thought. What was the matter with McCoy? The good doctor hardly ever went suddenly mute for no reason. That was what McCoy accused Spock of doing. Granted, there were times when Spock had seen McCoy stunned and unable to reply to something that Spock had said or done. But this silence was different. It seemed so uncharacteristic of McCoy. There must be a good reason for it. Maybe it was a further symptom of his strange malady. First eye problems, then a mysterious throat catarrh that came and went, and now an onslaught of mutism. Maybe it was selective as McCoy seemed to be accusing Spock about his touch telepathy. It was all very disconcerting for a Vulcan who was trying to learn and to be as helpful as he could be.

"Doctor?"

"Hmm?" McCoy hummed as he continued to stare off into space.

“You must have had some reason to ask me something like that, Doctor."

McCoy frowned. "What?" He seemed confused.

Spock frowned back. This was indeed worrisome. Add forgetfulness to McCoy's list of symptoms. "You asked about my ability to understand some thoughts by touch."

"Oh. Yeah. Just forget it."

"I fear that I cannot do as you request, Doctor. It is only logical that you spoke for some purpose. I have never before found you to divert from your normal behavioral patterns in such a manner. Granted," Spock added after a moment's consideration, "that is not saying that you perform or think along standard behavioral patterns among cross-sections of the general population. You are quite unique in your use of language skills and ways in which conduct your life. I am simply saying that you generally are consistent with your own behavioral patterns which tend to revert from the norm. Of course, those could vary with any selected new circumstance, I suppose, and could lead one to conjecture without adequate proof that--”

“Alright! I'm just curious, okay?!" McCoy had to put an end to Spock's monologue. Otherwise, he'd go to sleep from sheer boredom. And McCoy wanted to glide into sleep because he was sated and fulfilled from bedroom gymnastics, not because he was glassy-eyed and wondering when how long it would take for the Vulcan to lose his voice. "You get curious. You’ve told me that much! And you ask questions. I don’t have a hissy fit when you do that, do I?!”

“I do not know exactly what a hissy fit is, but I believe that I could equate it to the behavior of a scolding goose. I can understand how there could be a correlation between the two colorful expressions.”

McCoy looked amazed. “Actually, that’s pretty close to what it means.”

Spock preened. “Maybe I am beginning to understand idioms.”

“Don’t go crowing yet. You’ve got a ways to go in the idiom department.”

“A proud rooster! You just compared me to a rooster that is celebrating a victory by crowing! Oh, I am getting so good at idioms! Maybe it is because they concern barnyard animals. Do you believe that you could restrict your use of idioms to only those describing activities of barnyard animals, Doctor? Then maybe I will gain a better understanding of your idiom usage.” With sparkling eyes, Spock looked up at the ceiling with pleasure. "Oh, what a breakthrough! I can so see this moment as the start of some new understanding of some of the more puzzling aspects of the English language."

“Give me strength!” McCoy muttered as he rolled his own eyes at the ceiling. "How can I endure this?!"

Spock immediately sobered. “Are you experiencing problems, Doctor?”

“Yeah, and you have no idea how great they are.”

Spock grew very alarmed. “You do not seem to be under physical stress.”

“I’m hiding it well,” McCoy muttered with a sigh.

Spock raised up. “How may I be of assistance? If you could explain, perhaps I may be able to help you.”

McCoy had a choice here. He could clear up Spock’s immediate misunderstandings (and maybe get more bogged down and lose all interest in what the night was really supposed to be about), or maybe McCoy could just get down to why he’d called this meeting in the first place.

"Look, I, ah, got other things in mind than talking. I think that you'd like them," McCoy hinted.

"Oh?" Spock asked, intrigued.

Bless his Vulcan curiosity! Maybe McCoy could get some action going after all!

“I’m needing more comforting,” McCoy complained.

Spock immediately lay down and pulled his arms around McCoy again. “Better?”

“Very nice. But I want to go to the next stage.”

Spock frowned. “And what would that be?”

How should McCoy present what he wanted to say next?

“I want us to sleep together.”

“If that will please you--”

“It will.”

“I will do as you request. But it will be uncomfortable on this narrow cot when we generally sleep by ourselves.”

“I don’t mean literally sleeping together.” McCoy stared into Spock’s eyes.

“I do not understand--”

“I know you don’t.” McCoy tried something different. “I mean the way that mommies and daddies do.”

Spock frowned in puzzlement.

“The way that mommies and daddies do when they want to express how much they like each other.”

Nothing.

“Physically.”

Still nothing. 

“The way they like each other, physically.” McCoy paused. “When they want to make a baby together.”

Spock blinked. “You want us to make a baby together?!”

“Uh….”

“Doctor, may I remind you that we are both males….”

“Not literally making a baby together! Not literally sleeping together! Just doing the fun stuff without the consequences! The only way it would be safer birth control is if we both had vasectomies!”

Spock put a protective hand over his crotch. “I will do many things for you, Doctor, but I will not surrender my manhood to you.”

“But would you use that precious manhood of yours to make me happy?!”

Spock’s mouth dropped open. McCoy had never seen him look so stunned. Maybe McCoy would look that stunned, too, if someone had just said something like that to him. McCoy decided that it probably had a lot to do with one’s perspective. But at least his blunt statement had gotten Spock to stop asking stupid questions.

Or so he thought.

“Just how do you wish me to use my manhood to make you happy?” Spock asked hollowly.

Just how stupid could this guy be?! “Guess!” McCoy challenged in a flirty manner.

Well, of course that was the wrong thing to say to Spock.

“It is a guessing game?” Spock's voice reflected his incomprehension.

“It’s a game, but not guessing!”

“Doctor, I do not understand--”

“Bless your heart, I know you don’t,” McCoy said with exasperation. He was about to admit defeat.

Spock could take about anything except McCoy being disappointed in him, and McCoy was clearly disappointed in him. Spock leaned toward McCoy. “I will try to understand if you will just show me what I need to do.”

Bless his heart, McCoy believed him. It just required patience.

But did he have that kind of patience anymore this evening?

McCoy fought down an inclination to give up before he even started. This project might be bigger than the both of them. With Spock’s not understanding and McCoy’s wanting to get right to some action, these two weren’t in the same universe, let alone on the same page.

But they were in the same bed. What they lacked in semantics and understanding, they might be able to make up physically. After all, they were two good looking guys who liked each other. That put them a whole lot further ahead in this game of romance that McCoy wanted to play than most people who were just starting out down that road of many obstacles.

McCoy ran his hand up and down Spock's arm. "Let me tell you about the other things I want to do besides talking."

"O... kay," Spock said slowly, not realizing that he was using slang. But he was having more questions than his language usage. He was not really understanding why his arm was being rubbed, but he was liking it for some reason, too. A lot needed to be explained, and he hoped that McCoy had answers because his thinking was beginning to be muddled by McCoy's touching him so nicely.

McCoy's eyes darted over Spock's compliant, yet puzzled, face. "Yeah," he said in a husky voice. "I'd like to get physical. With you."

Spock frowned. "You would?"

"Yeah," McCoy answered again in the same husky voice.

"Doctor, your catarrh is back in your throat. You really should see about it before it becomes worse."

“Come here,” McCoy said huskily, hooked an arm around Spock’s head, and pulled him toward him.

“What are you going to do?” Spock asked with worry in his voice. Was McCoy wanting to wrestle? It certainly seemed to be a basic choke hold that McCoy had on him.

“WE are going to kiss, like Earthlings do.”

“Vulcans rub their fingers together to show affection.”

“You can rub the skin off some other person’s fingers when you hook up with another Vulcan, if you want. I don’t care what you do then. Right now, we’re gonna do things Earthling style, 'cause that's what I'm wanting right now.” His voice had grown low and husky with his need, and it wasn't just his need for Spock to understand.

Spock's frown deepened. "Doctor, your voice. I really must insist that you see about it--"

"Forget that. I'm more interested in what's causing your physical problem."

"What problem is that, outside of being severely squashed on your bed and having trouble making you realize that you really need to be seeing about your throat--"

"This," McCoy answered and cupped his hand over the rigid erection that Spock had been trying to ignore because he was on a humanitarian mission. But McCoy's touching him THERE made Spock forgot all about humanitarian missions.

Then McCoy gently squeezed.

Spock's mouth dropped open in a gasp, and McCoy swore that he saw Spock's eyes dilate.

"Understand now what I want?"

"It is becoming painfully evident to me," Spock answered with a grimace.

"I can alleviate your problem," McCoy promised as he applied more pressure to the part of Spock that was cupped in his hand.

Spock sucked his breath in, winced, and even whimpered.

McCoy relaxed his hold. "Am I hurting you?" he wanted to know. That would be an evening killer for sure.

"No, you are just, ah, compounding my problem."

"Want me to advise you on what to do for your problem?" McCoy asked softly, yet with a lightly teasing voice.

"No, but I believe that I finally have figured out what you want from me."

"It's about time," McCoy said in a relieved voice. He also relaxed for the first time in many minutes. "I was about ready to give up any hope."

"The arm stroking. The kissing on the lips. The cuddling. Are you wishing us to engage in foreplay before sexual intercourse?”

McCoy looked up with a frown. "What do you know about sexual intercourse?" His frown deepened. “Have you been acting dumb just to aggravate me?!”

“I did not realize that sexual intercourse was your ultimate goal.”

“Well, it is my ultimate goal. What do you think about that?” McCoy snapped.

“You should have said so, Doctor.”

“Would it have helped?”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Spock answered absently as he gazed off into space.

McCoy grunted. “And now you have your answer.”

Spock looked back at McCoy. "And I have mine. You wish me to perform as I do whenever pon farr controls me."

McCoy frowned as he considered that marathon of lovemaking which struck Spock every seven years. "Well, maybe not with that intensity or frequency. How about a tame version of that? A very tame version? Something that you and I can enjoy without killing ourselves. Something we can survive and won't take days to get over."

Spock looked pleased. "I believe that I understand what you are requesting of me, Doctor."

Now it was McCoy’s turn to ask, “So, how are we gonna do this?”

"I know how." And with that, Spock rolled toward him and gathered McCoy closer to him.

"But--"

Spock pressed McCoy back against the pillow. He had a sly smile on his face. “I believe that I can proceed from here, Doctor.”

“Well, that’s good to know.”

"And we can start with kissing on the lips, Earthling style. I believe that type of activity would warm you up sufficiently."

McCoy gulped. If Spock couldn't follow through with what his words were promising, it didn't matter. Because the words were heating up McCoy just fine.

Then Spock came at him with those marvelous, warm, gentle lips. That's when McCoy learned that Spock could kiss Earthling style just fine. Then those magical lips got firmer and more demanding, and those Vulcan hands got more persistent and then aggressive as they explored McCoy's willing body beneath him.

Now it was time for McCoy to be amazed. For a guy who supposedly did not have much of a reputation for romancing, Spock was a pretty good kisser as McCoy soon learned. And pretty good at a lot of other things, too.

“You’ve been hiding your talent,” McCoy murmured happily as he massaged Spock’s upper arm.

“I have a talent for other things, too,” Spock remarked with a knowing look.

“Well, don’t let me slow you down any.”

Spock didn’t.

Boy, did Spock have it figured out! And the solution proved to be a marvelous way to find more space for the two of them on that narrow cot, too.

They just had to double up.


	4. Life On Babel Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and McCoy's love life begins to interfere with their professional and social lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> McCoy has water in his shower.

Thus, they hit a happy stride that suited them just fine. Neither one of them slowed down in the days, and nights, ahead, either. They took to liking their mutual physical exercise regime very much. So much so, in fact, that it began to interfere with their job efficiency and other facets of their daily lives. But they weren’t about to give each other up now that they had found such wonderful activities to share. The rest of their lives would just have to cope, as would other people. Because they had a good thing going and were not about to give it up anytime soon.

 

McCoy awoke and groped groggily for the Vulcan he'd left sleeping beside him. Ordinarily he wasn't into morning things, but nothing had been the same in Leonard McCoy's life after Spock began spending a lot of his nights with him. And now McCoy was finding that he liked nothing better than to awaken, reach for the Vulcan, and sprawl over his bed half-asleep while the Vulcan draped over him and eventually speared McCoy firmly to the bed. It compromised McCoy more in the mornings because his bowels were accustomed to emptying at that time and there wasn't always a lot of room in there for Spock. But, bless him, Spock always managed to fit inside McCoy somehow even if he had to withdraw quickly whenever McCoy's morning Call of Nature came over him quicker than usual. Then Spock would almost laugh out loud as he watched the naked McCoy dashing madly for the commode. Earthlings could be quite comical if given only half an opportunity to do so.

But this morning, Spock was not with him and that was strange because Spock said that he liked to watch McCoy awaken. Something about watching a flower unfolding to meet the sunshine of the new day, or some such hogwash like that. McCoy didn't mind what the Vulcan was blathering about just so there would be time for some cuddling before they had to arise and meet the sunshiny day. And if other things should happen to arise, such as certain features of the Vulcan, well then the day would just have to wait awhile to get started for Spock and McCoy. Because they would be unavoidably detained.

McCoy glanced across the room and saw Spock's fresh uniform and underclothes lying neatly awaiting the moment they would be donned. Humph, McCoy thought. Wherever Spock is, he's naked. That realization caused a slight stirring in his nether regions. McCoy glanced at the bathroom door. Maybe Spock was in there, showering. That caused more stirring in McCoy's nether region. McCoy hopped out of bed and decided to join him.

Spock looked up and saw McCoy grinning at him. Anyone would grin to see the magnificent Spock, naked, with rivulets of water plastering streaks of dark hair all across his torso and sturdy legs. Spock's eyes burned straight into his eyes while McCoy's grin deepened.

"Want some company?" McCoy asked at last.

Spock's one eyebrow went up. That was the only thing that moved on himself outside of his penis that slowly stirred and stretched as McCoy tossed off his robe and stepped naked into the shower, also.

"I missed you," McCoy murmured as water poured down both of their faces and emptied onto their bodies. They stood that way a long time, staring at each other, as their bodies got wetter and wetter. Sluicing water can be damned erotic when it is caressing naked bodies so intimately.

After McCoy had gotten sufficiently wet to Spock's satisfaction, Spock soaped up his hands and proceeded to rub McCoy's body all over to cleanse it. Who needed washrags, McCoy wondered as Spock's hands swept over him and caressed curves and dents that were now familiar to Spock's dry hands in bed.

"We'll miss breakfast," McCoy murmured as Spock's lips wallowed his neck and dragged a path of fire up McCoy's cheek.

"Do you care?" Spock murmured back as his lips continued their exploration of McCoy's soapy body.

"No," McCoy answered. Then his hands grabbed Spock's upper arms and pulled Spock against him. "Hell, no!" This was one of the perks of their relationship. McCoy could love on him all he wanted without fear that anything would come of it except sexual gratification.

Spock had all he could do to hang onto the slippery McCoy, then he spun him around and shoved him against the shower wall.

Oh, boy, this is the part I'm gonna love, McCoy thought with a grin as his cheek slammed against the slick tiles.

Spock secured McCoy's hands above his head with one hand and ripped his thighs apart with the other. He wasn't struggling to get away from Spock, but McCoy loved the defenseless feeling of his spread open body as the water coursed around his thighs and Spock messed with all his supposedly private parts.

No, this is the part I'm gonna love, McCoy thought with glee as he felt Spock fumbling with the water-soaked flesh between McCoy's legs, then gasped as Spock began preparing McCoy's secret opening to receive something much larger than Spock's probing fingers.

Spock ripped into him with a mighty thrust and an even mightier grunt of conquest. McCoy grinned because he loved it when someone enjoyed his work. Then he needed to concentrate on the action. He tried to relax because he relished the feeling of being ravished and unprotected. It was like a bull elephant had plowed into him. McCoy thought that he was seeing stars in the daytime, but it might've just been the bathroom light against the water cascading all around him. And all those colors he was seeing might've been a rainbow indoors or simply the cascading shower water splintering all around him. Whatever, it fulfilled McCoy and brought him a certain amount of peace.

McCoy felt Spock penetrating him and filling him to the hilt. He lost count of the stars he saw exploding around him. Surely a new solar system had been formed somewhere.

Spock paused, allowing them both to catch their breaths. Because when Spock started the serious lovemaking, he stopped for nothing.

Now, this, this is the part I'm really gonna to love, McCoy thought as Spock began hammering him with lusty thrusts.

And McCoy did.

 

But vigorous lovemaking such as morning shower sex left McCoy exhausted and needing to nap afterwards and a hearty breakfast later on, but he got none of that. After their long bout of shower sex, McCoy had to dress quickly and hurry to Sickbay without a nap or breakfast. And that sort of neglect and abuse on his body began to show on McCoy as well as Spock. A part of him somewhere, probably the doctor part, knew that behavior like that was wrong and hard on their bodies, but he refused to give it up.

“Doctor McCoy, are you not feeling well this morning?”

McCoy squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, enjoying the peace and quiet. Wouldn't it be great just to slip into a relaxing, refreshing nap? But he couldn't. Chapel was there with her insistent questions.

"Doctor?"

McCoy heard the anxious tone in Chapel's voice and knew that he had to open his eyes again and answer her before she became alarmed. Chapel was a good nurse, but tended to panic if she thought that something was wrong with McCoy.

“I am fine, Nurse. Just a little groggy. I might have a little headache.” He closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck, remembering that Spock had been nibbling on that area only an hour before.

“Oh, that’s too bad, Doctor, that you are not feeling well.”

“It will pass soon enough, Chapel. I’ll just walk around a little. Routine always helps.”

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked in a worried voice. “Maybe the caffeine would stimulate you and give you a shot of energy.”

McCoy gave her a tender smile. She really was a jewel and doted on him too much. He couldn’t hurt her feelings by thinking that he didn’t appreciate all that she did for him. “That would be nice, Christine. I think that would pep me up just fine.”

Chapel looked relieved. “I’ll get it for you right away, Doctor. Why don’t you drink it in your office? We aren’t busy right at the moment, and I could notify you if you are needed. You might even catch a couple of winks of sleep until the coffee kicks in.”

“Now you’re spoiling me, Nurse,” he teased.

She blushed and acted flustered as she bustled away to get his coffee.

She really was a dear, he thought as he stepped into his office.

Things weren’t quite as sweet between the head doctor and the chief nurse a few days later. They had been working on a patient who required an inoculation of medicine before being sent back to his quarters to recuperate. As McCoy prepared to administer the dosage, Chapel suddenly stopped him by laying her hand on his forearm.

“Chapel?” McCoy asked with a frown across his face.

“That is the wrong medication, Doctor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Any first year student knows that antihistamines are used to control hives.”

“But, Doctor," she insisted. "You have decided that Yeoman Wallace’s hives are becoming chronic, so you have been using steroids on him.” Chapel gave McCoy a pointed look. “Remember?”

"Oh, yeah, I do recall that now, Nurse. Thanks for reminding me.” He looked at the suffering Wallace whose hives wouldn’t have gone away this time with the medication that he had so trustingly sought. “Nurses!" McCoy confided to Wallace. "They are the saviors of patients, aren't they? And of doctors,too.”

McCoy tried to slough it off, but the trouble was that Chapel didn’t believe him. Worse yet was that Yeoman Wallace didn’t believe him. And that’s a bad thing when a patient's belief in his doctor is compromised.

And if anything else could possibly be worse, it was that McCoy knew that he had not lived up to the oath he had taken. He most certainly would have caused harm to his patient this time. And that bothered McCoy greatly, but not enough to make him search out the source of his problem and rectify it.

 

Meanwhile, Spock was having troubles of his own, especially when he was on duty. A lot of serving on the Bridge was boring, routine work of watching monitors and viewing the ever changing pattern of the stars out the front viewing port. A person of high intelligence can quickly grow bored with routine matters, especially if he is physically exhausted from lack of sleep and performing sexually. That, plus a creeping malnutrition from eating poorly was beginning to take its toll. Spock needed some food and some rest, but he was getting neither in sufficient quantity. It was all a matter of time that it became evident to the other crew on the Bridge that he was on a downward spiral.

The sounds of a scuffle brought Kirk’s attention to something that was happening behind him as he sat in the Command Chair on the Bridge of the Enterprise, so he turned to see what was the matter. Uhura and Spock were just untangling themselves from an apparent collision with each other.

“I am so sorry, Mr. Spock,” Uhura said as she pulled out of Spock’s arms which had wrapped around her to prevent a fall.

“Entirely my fault, Lieutenant. I should have observed that you were approaching the turbo lift, too, and allowed you to proceed ahead of me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Commander,” Uhura said, blushing. “Just because I’m a woman is no reason for me to always go first.”

“It is for a gentleman such as myself to allow it, madam,” Spock said smoothly. “It was an oversight on my part not to allow it now. Please forgive me. My mind must have been elsewhere.”

“Well, of course you are forgiven,” Uhura said, blushing again.

Spock gave her a warm smile as Kirk turned away from their little drama. Chekov and Sulu grinned at each other when they saw that all was well with their crewmates, but Kirk frowned. Spock seemed to be preoccupied quite a lot lately. And tired.

Then Kirk remembered another incident concerning Spock and his questionable behavior which had occurred only a few days before.

Just a few of them had been aboard the shuttlecraft as it approached the Enterprise from a routine stop at an outpost. It had been an easy visit, but still the guys were happy to be getting home once more. Besides, the Enterprise was a beautiful ship, and they were proud of her. The heart of each crewmember aboard the shuttle glowed as the crew approached their ship.

“Aye, she’s a fair sight to behold, is she not, Captain?” Scotty said at the controls as he looked out the viewing port.

Kirk felt a surge of warmth for their starship, too, as he gave her a mellow smile. “That she is, Scotty.” He felt a great deal of satisfaction. “That she is indeed.”

“You know, Captain,” Scotty started to say as he turned toward Kirk who sat across the aisle in the seat behind the other control chair. Then he frowned and nodded behind Kirk. “Just look at that now, will you, sir?”

Kirk turned to look behind him. Spock slumped in a seat in the last row, his arms folded over his chest and his head bent in slumber. He rocked slightly from the gentle motion of the shuttlecraft as it traveled through space. He was very definitely asleep.

“I don’t believe it!” Scotty continued. “Safe in the arms of Caer Ibormeith, he is.”

“Who?” Kirk wanted to know.

“The Celtic goddess of sleep and dreams.” Scotty bit his lips together. “No wonder that Mr. Spock did not want to pilot this shuttle. Hard telling where he might have flown us to in his sleep.” He shook his head in sympathy. “The poor lad! I guess he has to catch up on his rest sometime, doesn’t he now? Seeing as how he doesn't get much rest during his off-duty hours." He rolled his eyes as his eyes twinkled. "Especially at night!”

That remark told Kirk that the crew was well aware of the shenanigans going on between Spock and McCoy. Hell, they were probably aware of it long before Kirk realized that McCoy was carrying through on his vague threat to bed Spock.

Kirk knew one thing for certain. He couldn’t pretend much longer that nothing was happening between his two senior officers. It was time he dropped a few subtle hints, or some that weren't so subtle.

 

With a look of bemusement on his face, Jim Kirk studied the weary faces of his friends as the guys slumped across from him at their breakfasts in the mess hall.

“Rough night, gentlemen?” Kirk finally asked.

“You don’t have any idea just how rough,” McCoy muttered. His voice sounded like it was coming from deep within some hidden cavern.

“Hmm,” Spock hummed in agreement without even opening his eyes. He had his eyes tightly shut as if even the thought of light would hurt his sensitive vision.

McCoy looked no better. At least his eyes were open, but they were bloodshot and blurry.

Kirk wondered if that hurt half as badly as it looked like it did. “Your eyes don’t look so good, Bones,” he said as he winced at his friend. “In fact, they look like hell.”

“Yeah, and you got the better view. You oughta see them from in here.” McCoy barely got rasped out what he’d wanted to say. Then he heaved a great suffering sigh, stared down at his food, and shoved the plate away with a groan. “I think my stomach just went on strike.” Spock hummed in agreement.

“You two wanna have a sick day?” Kirk suggested.

“We ain’t sick!” McCoy snapped and Spock pulled away from the loud noise.

“I know," Kirk answered. "Otherwise, sexual fatigue would be one of the leading scourges of the human race. You two are suffering from too much intimate gluttony. You gotta learn to pace yourselves, gentlemen. You're well on your way to killing yourselves.”

“You’re a bad one to talk!” McCoy thundered back. “You’re the Casanova of the Cosmos! You can sack ‘em and rack ‘em with the best of them! Don’t go calling a hard piece of dirt a clod until your own love life is spotless! And that ain’t gonna happen any time soon! I’d give you another forty years! Fifty, if you’re lucky.” He gave Kirk a hard look with eyes that were having trouble focusing. “And ‘lucky’ is your middle name. It's gotta be,” he muttered as he turned aside. "It ain't natural what you've got going for you."

“You’re exaggerating about my powers,” Kirk protested sheepishly, but relishing every wicked description that McCoy used for him.

“Who’s exaggerating?!” McCoy snapped, then wished that he hadn’t. The words had echoed in his head like they were bouncing off the walls of a hollow cave, a large hollow cave. A hollow cave that was made of some sort of metal that had a metallic clang to it when a mouse sneezed.

And McCoy’s voice was certainly louder than any mouse that ever sneezed, especially from the inside where McCoy could get the full benefit of all his volume. McCoy swore that this sexual hangover was as bad as any alcoholic hangover he’d ever experienced. And right now, McCoy couldn’t have said which hangover was more enjoyable getting. He certainly knew what kind was worse-- whichever one he was currently suffering from now.

Spock frowned and moaned his protest of the loud noise that McCoy was making. There was no way that Spock had the energy to voice his disapproval of the racket, though. Indeed, he did not even have the energy to open his eyes. Besides, it was McCoy, his beloved McCoy, who was lifting his voice so indignantly. And Spock was not about to ignite McCoy’s wrath any further than it already was, especially when McCoy was so good to him at night in bed.

Yup, Kirk sighed to himself. It was time to say something, alright. But not when these two were in such a hell of a shape from their overindulgences. They had to get straightened out from that first.

"Sick day for both of you."

McCoy's eyes twinkled with interest as he began to make plans.

"In your separate quarters." Kirk heard them both groan. "I'll send Chapel to check on you. Every hour." He was rewarded by looks of despair and just plain horror.

"Oh, hell," McCoy protested. "She wouldn't let us get by with anything! She can get mean!"

"That's why I'm sending Chapel. She'll keep both of you in line."

They groaned again, but knew it would do them no good. For once, they would get sufficient food and sleep. Because they would be alone.

But that could be only one day. Chapel couldn't take up a career as their jailer. No, something else had to done, and fast.

 

Spock and McCoy’s dereliction to duty and neglect of their lives in general were difficult to overlook. It got so bad that a certain Starfleet captain couldn’t ignore what was in front of his eyes for him, and every one else, to see.

And that certain Starfleet captain took it upon himself to speak to his Chief Medical Officer because he figured that whatever was going on between him and the First Officer had originated with that said doctor. Bedding a guy was one thing, but this physical marathon had to calm down. There was something about the whole unseemly mess that didn't quite ring true for Kirk. McCoy would never neglect his patients and risk his career, and he certainly would not abet Spock in a similar plunge down the wrong path.

And McCoy better not try to act innocent, because Kirk just wasn’t going to buy it. No way that Spock had been the instigator of whatever was going on. It had McCoy written all over it. Whatever McCoy had cooked up with Spock was going way beyond what he'd told Kirk he was going to do. And it had to stop, or at least be modified.


	5. Cool Your Jets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim Kirk tries to suggest to McCoy why he needs to cool down his relationship with McCoy.

“So, Bones, it’s been awhile since we’ve been able to do this, just you and me,” Kirk remarked as they sat drinking his fine alcohol in his quarters. He hadn’t trusted this conversation anywhere else but somewhere very private. He even knew that Spock was busy in the medical lab so there would be no danger of him overhearing them on the other side of their adjoining bathroom or walking in unannounced.

"Yeah, this is the life alright. Just you, me, and Kentucky's finest," McCoy agreed as he studied the dark amber liquid. "This is what happens when you store good corn in charred oak casks and let it sit around for awhile. You eventually get nectar fit for the gods." He tipped the glass up and allowed some of the smooth alcohol to course down his throat.

"You Southern boys do know how to make good liquor," Kirk noted with a grin. "One of the best things to come out of the Southland."

McCoy grunted as he showed his appreciation for the drink he was making love to with his eyes and his mouth. Kirk would make a helluva Southern gentleman himself, McCoy decided. He certainly knew his Kentucky bourbon.

Kirk hated to break up that romance because it seemed to be going so well for McCoy and the drink in his hand, but Kirk had an agenda. “Haven’t seen you around much on duty, even,” Kirk continued. “You don’t show up on the Bridge like you generally do.”

“Been busy, if you must know,” McCoy snapped. Then he softened and shrugged. Kirk was his personal friend and McCoy didn’t want to lose him just because he was so tired from his nighttime escapades. “Just busy,” he muttered, calmer. "Something always seems to be going on in Sickbay, either strange rashes showing up after an away mission or an outbreak of pregnancies and morning sickness off the wall. Everything seems to need my personal attention."

“I know. Duty can be a bitch,” he remarked, seeming to agree. “But I haven’t seen you much at meals, either, or when you're off duty.”

“Just--” McCoy answered, tossing his hand about weakly.

“Yeah, I know. Just busy,” Kirk finished for him.

“It’s the truth!” McCoy snapped.

"I know," Kirk said in a soothing voice.

"Why don't you say what's really on your mind? It's gotta be more than this dish of food that you insisted that I bring with me." He gave it a disgusted look. "Can't even remember for sure what it's supposed to be anymore. But it sounded good at the time. Oh, well," he said as he shoved it aside without interest.

In a way, that made it easier for Kirk. He hadn't really known how to approach this discussion. After all, there was the fact that he had prior knowledge of what was going to happen. McCoy had announced his plans to bed Spock. Kirk had thought that would make the topic easier to broach. But it hadn't.

"A lot of your time has been comprised lately."

McCoy smirked with disdain. "You might say that."

"That's what I am saying. And it's for quite a reason." McCoy rolled his eyes at that, and Kirk gave him a penetrating look. “It seems that you and my First Officer are in a relationship of sorts.”

“Of sorts,” McCoy muttered back. "It wasn't as if I didn't give you fair warning, though!" he snapped with flashing eyes. "You knew what was coming!"

"I know. But I had no idea that it would be this... intense."

"Neither did I," McCoy grumbled.

Kirk gave him a look of fascinated interest. Kirk was a voyeur through and through. "Got him to come unhinged, eh?" he asked with a conspiratorial grin which let up his whole face. "I expect it's something to get that guy fired up and have him direct all of that energy in your direction. It's probably a wonder that you can still walk straight in the mornings, but I bet you're not complaining one bit." Kirk grinned broadly. "You lucky dog, you! You're having Spock!"

McCoy looked miffed. "I don't kiss and tell, Kirk, no matter how much it would juice your rockets. You're not gonna use details of my love life to thrill you. You know, on those nights when you're all alone in the dark with nothing around to love you in return but your own talented hands."

Kirk backed off. He'd pressed McCoy too soon and too hard, and he knew better. He'd forgotten to let McCoy tell this story in his own way, but Kirk was just too eager for spicy details. Dang, it was difficult to stay neutral when it came to his friends and their personal lives!

"You're right, Bones. Whatever happens between you and Spock in the bedroom is your business and none of mine."

"About time you were admitting something like that," McCoy mumbled. "Spock's a grown man. He can take care of himself. I'm not deliberately trying to hurt him, and I'll say that to anybody who tries to tell me otherwise!" 

Little defensive, aren't you, Dr. McCoy, Kirk thought to himself. Wonder why you feel that way? Aloud, he tried to placate McCoy. "You picked a mighty fine person."

McCoy immediately softened. "Don't I know it?" He glowed softly in remembrance. "I'll tell you one thing, too, Jim. He's something, really something. I had no idea that it could be this way, no idea at all."

"I'm happy for you, Bones. For the both of you. You've both needed someone in your lives for a long time now."

McCoy nodded in assent. "I thought that it would be a linear experience, you know? I had no idea that it would have this depth or this width or be this penetrating. Or that it could feel this good going in and staying in. No idea at all," he said in awe.

Kirk had to fight himself from forming a picture of Spock's penis with McCoy's words. Kirk knew that McCoy was not describing Spock's endowment, especially if it was in action. But nonetheless, that was the image that tried to form in Kirk's warped mind. As it was, Kirk missed some of McCoy's description of the intense lovemaking between him and Spock. And Kirk would always regret that because when he got his mind to concentrate again on what McCoy was saying, it was some pretty intimate stuff that McCoy was relating.

“I haven’t come that hard since I was a teenager or newly married,” McCoy confessed and amazed himself more than he did Kirk. “You know, those times back when sex was new and adventuresome and scalded your eyeballs? Well, that's how it is now, with Spock. Except the scald goes all over my body now, and I can feel it for hours.”

Kirk wet his lips, but it was still a moment before he could talk again. “Yeah, but, hell, man, you gotta take it a little slower now,” Kirk confided. “Those kinds of antics are for young bucks like me. Keeping up with that kind of pace will kill you for sure. No wonder that Spock is walking around in a daze. He’s killing himself, too.”

"Vulcans are strong. This one's got staying power." McCoy thought about it. "He could go multiple times if he wanted." A grin began to tug at the corners of his lips as he looked at Kirk. "He can," he decided as the grin began to spread. Then it cracked his face wide open. "He does!"

"Bones, that's unhealthy. Even for a Vulcan. You'll have to put the brakes on him, for his own good. And for yours."

“I limit him to twice a night,” McCoy snarled. “If he’s getting more on the side, I don’t know anything about it.” That speculation about a wider range to Spock’s sex life hit McCoy and hit him hard. Hell, why should it? He had no claim on Spock. And yet the thought of Spock going at it hot and heavy with someone else hurt. "That's his own private business and none of mine." But each of those last words hurt, and McCoy tried to remind himself that it shouldn't be mattering to him. But it did.

“Oh, I think that’s about the range of his activities, too,” Kirk broke into McCoy's thoughts when he saw how hurt McCoy's face looked.

McCoy frowned. “You’ve asked him about all of this?”

Kirk gave him one of his sly grins. “As much as I could without getting sidelined by a Vulcan Nerve Pinch. I don’t wanna piss off the guy who can apply one of those babies.”

“And yet you don’t mind pissing me off,” McCoy mumbled as an aside, but Kirk felt the sting of the words.

“I thought you were the more approachable.”

McCoy shot out of his chair, which was quite a feat considering how much he had been drinking. “Me? Me?! Whatever in the hell gave you that idea?!”

“At least we speak the same language.”

“English?! The Vulcan knows English! Granted, though, idioms give him a helluva challenge,” McCoy muttered almost to himself. Then he gave Kirk a thoughtful look. “But on the whole, he’s got the King’s English down pretty well.”

“Not that language, Bones. The language of love.”

“I beg to differ. You oughta hear him get started on Shakespearean sonnets. He’s got you, and even me, beaten when it comes to that longhair stuff.”

“Not that language of love. The boys’ locker room kind. Teenage boys hanging out together behind the baseball dugout kind. He never had that kind of experience that we had, Bones. Hell, to hear him tell it, he never hung out with any guys his age, from kindergarten all the way through undergraduate school. He just doesn’t have the same background in sexual matters as we do.”

“I’m not finding that to be a disadvantage,” McCoy said, defending Spock and his lack of experience.

“Yeah, but until he learns a little finesse, it’s gonna come close to killing the both of you.”

McCoy gave him a crooked smile. “But what a way to go, right?”

“Bones, I can’t risk losing both of my senior officers.”

McCoy shrugged. “You run that risk every time he and I go out on a mission together. I don’t notice you picking out headstones for us every time we get dissolved on the transporter pads.” He frowned as he looked introspective. “Although it crosses my mind more than once, I'll tell you.”

“It does mine, too. It’s one thing, though, to lose personnel, any personnel, on a mission. It’s another to lose staff because they screwed themselves to death!”

McCoy’s slapdash grin flashed. “But what a unique epitaph on that tombstone! ‘He got fucked-- literally!’ At least I’d die with a smile on my face.” McCoy winked. “Just so I die with the rock hard part of a Vulcan crammed up my ass!”

Kirk shuddered. “It’s gonna take a while to get that image outa my head.”

McCoy waved him away. “Oh, hell, you’ll think of it every time you’re going solo from now on. And don’t try to tell me any different.”

Kirk tried to look innocent. “You know me so well.”

“Damned straight! And you know me well enough to know that I’m not giving up the Vulcan even if you think that we’re well on our way to killing ourselves.”

“You are. And the way you two are looking and acting proves my point.” He waved through McCoy’s objection. “But I’m not saying to give him up.”

“What then?” McCoy asked suspiciously. “It sounds awfully close to what you’re working yourself up to saying. And don’t make it an order. We’ll openly disobey you.”

“I know that. And it wouldn’t take long before the crew would catch on what was happening, and any sort of discipline on my part would go out the window.”

“You know if you were talking to the Vulcan that this is where the discussion would bog down, don’t you?” McCoy asked wryly. “He would remind you that there are no windows per se on a starship. He'd say that if there were, they would collapse inwardly from the pressures being forced on them by space.”

“Don’t try to distract me.”

McCoy shrugged. “Welcome to my world with one literal Vulcan in it.”

“This involves more than pressure on windows, and you know it.”

“I know that, and you know that, but--”

“And I’m saying that I want you two to cool your jets in the bedroom.”

“Another misnomer that would stir the Vulcan to do ten minutes of uninterrupted monologue for sure. At the end of which, you will have forgotten what your original thesis was. Or even your own name, for that matter. But you'll be impressed by his lung power and by his dredging up such a free flowing line of utter drivel. As W.C. Fields famously pointed out, 'If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit.” McCoy grinned to himself. "But Spock is worth it all."

“I’m serious, Bones--”

"So am I!" McCoy wiped the good-natured grin off his face, and his eyes snapped. “I’m not giving up the Vulcan!”

“You don’t have to give him up. Just, just--”

“I know. You want me to cool my jets. May I remind you, that I am only the recipient of all of that rocket fuel? The Vulcan’s the one who shows up in hyperdrive--”

"Because he thinks that's the way you want him to be--"

"And what the hell is the matter with that?!"

“Bones, it’s killing you! You gotta cut back! Talk to him--”

“And tell him what?! That I’m too old to cut the mustard anymore?!”

Kirk looked puzzled. “No wonder that Spock gets confused if you use expressions like that.”

“It gets my point across, though, doesn’t it?!”

“Well, yeah. But that's because we're ol' country boys who know what that term means.”

McCoy gave Kirk THE look that meant that he had proven his point, too.

Kirk studied McCoy’s belligerent stance with his arms crossed defiantly over his chest and fire flying out of his eyes. “If you refuse to approach him with this problem, then I’ll just have to.”

McCoy turned aside with disgust. “I wanna tape of THAT discussion!”

“I’ll approach him logically--”

“Great! But you’ve forgotten one small detail! Sex isn’t logical! It's the most illogical thing in the universe! And you'll be discussing it with the person who cut his teeth on logic! You’ll lose that discussion before you even open your mouth! Give it up, Kirk! You can't convince him using the arguments that you now have.”

Kirk gave him a wry look. “Then I’ll have to use another argument on him. I'll tell him that he has to give you up to save your life.”

McCoy slowly unfolded his arms. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said lowly. “That would be the one thing that would make Spock leave me alone forever. He was very protective of me before all of this started. But now he would deny himself, and me, just so I would live. Even you couldn’t be that cunning and cruel, Jim Kirk.”

“I can and I will. I’d rather have two horny and frustrated, but alive, officers and friends than whatever it is that you two are hellbent on becoming now.”

“I won’t be able to live that way.” McCoy sounded dejected. “It’ll be a long, long life that will lie stretched before me. Death sounds welcome already.”

Oh, hell, Kirk couldn’t have this! “Look, I don’t wanna be the bad guy here.”

McCoy gave him a hard look. “Coulda fooled me.”

“Look, can’t you guys just calm things down a little? Surely the honeymoon period is getting close to being over by now. Isn't the sex getting a little humdrum and rote by now anyway?"

McCoy gave him a 'get real' look.

"Just pace yourself. Hmm? Couldn’t you do that?”

McCoy thought about how difficult it was to keep up with Spock sometimes. He saw how the pace was wearing on Spock, too. It would be nice to calm things down. Just a little.

Kirk could see that McCoy was thinking things through. “See? I knew you’d see reason. It’ll be alright. Spock will agree, too.”

McCoy thought things through some more and tried to imagine what it would all mean.

Spock calmed down. McCoy never again knowing when sex would happen. Or where. Or how. Just predictable sex, like other people had.

Spock, just like other people.

“I’ll even talk to him for you if you'd like,” Kirk offered in a soothing voice.

“YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!!!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Too Old To Cut The Mustard" is a Country-Western classic recorded by several singers including Bill Carlisle, Red Foley, and Ernest Tubb.


	6. It's For Your Own Good, And Spock's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk explains why he thinks that McCoy needs to change his way of thinking about his relationship with Spock.

Kirk studied his belligerent, fuming friend for a moment. “Bones, I’m not trying to stop you from seeing Spock. That’s not what I’m after here, at all.”

“Surprising how much that's exactly what you're saying, though. He's his own man. He won't ever be any cookie-cutter guy no matter what anybody else tries to do to him,” McCoy muttered and visibly brought down his anger a decibel or two now that he had defended Spock. He glanced toward the food that he had brought with him, but it was mainly so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with Kirk.

“Are you gonna eat any of that?” Kirk asked as he frowned down at the mess in the bowl beside McCoy.

“Maybe.” He forced himself to stare into Kirk’s eyes. “That’s why I got it, didn’t I?! Because I was gonna eat it?!”

“Well, you haven’t so far,” Kirk reminded him gently.

"I only got it because you've been chewing my ass about not eating enough!"

"I only did that chewing because of the condition of your ass. If it gets any skinnier, it'll disappear completely." He nodded at the bowl. “But I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to eat that slop. You’ve been stirring it around so much that not even I would be interested in eating it. And you gotta admit, that’s saying something.”

A weary smile played across McCoy's face. “Guess I wouldn’t make it as a chef, would I?”

“Not even on a penal colony on an ice planet. That would be too humane to expect prisoners to eat something that looks like that.”

“Maybe on an Iowa hog farm. It'd get them ready for market in no time at all.”

“I don’t know. Our hogs were always more discerning than that," Kirk answered. "They are a very intelligent animal, you know.”

“Unlike some Starfleet doctors you've been around?” McCoy asked sheepishly.

“There’s nothing wrong with your intelligence, Bones. Just maybe with your attitude.”

“And the other shoe drops,” McCoy said with a sigh as he straightened himself. "Now we're gonna get down to the nitty-gritty of why I really got an invitation into the sanctum sanctorum and why you're so concerned about my health, aren't we?"

"Come on, Bones, you know you've been off your feed lately and you're asleep on your feet. Something's gotta be causing that."

"You're just jealous because I'm getting more action than you are! That's damn petty, Kirk!"

Kirk cringed with the acid off McCoy tongue. McCoy might as well have screamed that their friendly little chat was over. That’s what his body language was saying, even if his sharp words hadn't indicated that Kirk was not charming him one bit.

“Too close to the bone?” Kirk asked innocently.

“Come on, Kirk, spit it out. You know you’re dying to.”

McCoy was scowling and sounding awfully belligerent, but he hadn’t cut off communication. Kirk took that as a good sign. Well, at least an encouraging one.

“I know that you really want a meaningful relationship with Spock, not just this physical merry-go-round that you two have been riding.”

“Don’t mess around, do you?!”

McCoy had snapped out that question, but still sat as if he was going to take anything that Kirk hurled his way. Boy, was McCoy feeling guilty and didn’t realize it! Kirk had suspected as much and figured that McCoy hadn't realized it himself.

"I believe that things can work out, Bones."

"I'm listening. As a famous actress once said, 'I am not prone to argue.'"

"Come on, Bones. Really? Mae West? That's pretty desperate even for you, isn't it?"

McCoy scoffed and turned away, but he did not contradict Kirk.

Kirk wondered why McCoy was quoting old-time comedians like Mae West and W.C. Fields, but maybe it was McCoy's way of coping with the situation. It was obvious that McCoy wanted no interference. He was listening to Kirk only because of his friendship and high regard for the guy. And because Kirk was his superior officer.

"You have to admit that some things need to change. You're killing yourselves with sex, and it's starting to show in your work performance. And that's bound to bother both of you. Some people take no pride in their jobs, but you and Spock do."

"Well, yeah," McCoy had to admit. Kirk was certainly correct in all that.

"You just need to change a few things."

"I'm listening."

Kirk leaned forward in an intimate posture. “I just think that you’re taking the wrong position with him.”

McCoy reared back with a startled look on his face. “You want me to be the one on top?!”

Kirk blinked and jerked backwards, too. What McCoy had asked had told Kirk all sorts of interesting information, some he shouldn’t know, some he didn’t need to know, and some that nonetheless titillated the voyeur in him. He even had the grace to blush, which was a rarity for him. But this was not some prepubescent boy at camp whom he was counseling, even though the situation would indicate that the person being advised was an adolescent.

Kirk frowned and couldn’t quite meet McCoy’s eyes. “No, ah, that wasn’t what I was meaning.”

“Well, that’s good,” McCoy grumbled, a little embarrassed now himself. “’Cause I’m kinda liking the arrangement we’ve got going right now just fine.”

The image of Spock bent over McCoy doggy style burned itself into the imaginations of both men. One thing for sure, that picture wouldn’t leave the minds of either one for quite awhile. McCoy hadn't even thought much about it, but now even he could not rid himself of the startling images.

As long as they were on the subject, Kirk decided to go for it. In for a penny, in for a pound, as the Brits would say. “Tell me, are you ever on your back?” No eye contact at all was made on that one.

McCoy frowned, not quite believing what Kirk had asked him and not quite believing that he was going to answer Kirk. “With my feet up?”

“Yeah,” Kirk mumbled, trying hard not to look shocked or envious.

“With my ankles hooked on his shoulders?”

Kirk flinched as he took a deep breath and licked his lips. “I suppose.”

McCoy’s frown deepened. “Looking at him?! And having him looking deep into my eyes and seeing the reflection of me all naked in there, too?!”

Kirk shifted uncomfortably as sweat popped out on his face and his nether regions began to wake up. “Yeah,” he whispered. There went that damn image again. Except this time it was one of McCoy’s face between his own scrawny, naked raised legs, and his face was twisted in pain or passion or something that Kirk didn’t want to imagine or even think about until he was alone.

"And sending me high on gossamer wings?" McCoy whispered. "Like what we were doing had been invented by the angels, instead of the Devil himself? But all the while thinking that this was the greatest feeling you'd ever felt?"

"Oh, yeah," Kirk whispered back as he felt a definite jerk below his waistband. He hoped that there wouldn't be physical proof of the interest that McCoy's words were stirring in him, but then McCoy himself saved Kirk from that ultimate embarrassment.

“Let’s get one thing straight right now, Captain," McCoy said in a new, hard voice. "He and I, well, we’re not in love here, or anything stupid like that. We’re just getting our rocks off.”

Kirk dared to look up. It took all of his courage not to blink or show any other sign of emotion or backing down as he stared at McCoy. “That’s the point, Bones. It’s an act unto itself. Simple sex. Animal release. Rutting for the sake of rutting. Whatever you want to call it.”

"Yeah," McCoy said with a scowl. "That's how we set it up."

"'We?'" Kirk questioned. "Don't you mean that was the way that you set it up?"

"What the hell difference does it make?! That's what's so damned perfect about the situation!"

"That's what's so damned wrong about the situation!" Kirk contradicted.

“What are you saying here?! That we should be more committed? That we should be in love, or something stupid like that?!”

“Yeah, that’s just exactly what I’m saying,” Kirk whispered.

“You’re so full of--”

“Bones, it isn’t me! It’s you!”

McCoy turned aside. “You’re still so full of it,” he muttered. “That’s not what’s going on with him and me at all.”

“You, Bones. You! Spock will follow wherever you lead him when it comes to relationships. I know that, you know that.” He paused to let that all sink in. “You know that, Bones. That’s part of what’s killing you.”

“And the other part?” McCoy asked, half mocking, half wanting to know.

“That you’re approaching this relationship all wrong.”

“Not the, uh, business about, uh, who’s on top, I'm assuming?” He shifted uneasily.

Kirk shifted uneasily, too. “No, no, not that at all.”

“What are you suggesting? More foreplay? Once more, with feeling? Make him see stars in the daytime and constellations at nighttime? That’s what you’re saying?”

Damn it, McCoy knew what the problem was! He’d just never thought it through or even allowed the thought to enter his consciousness.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Shi--” McCoy turned aside with the expletive simmering on his lips.

“Make love to him. Let him make love to you. I don’t mean the act itself. Have romance." He saw McCoy's face darken. "Yeah, that’s what you need! Romance! You know, silly stuff that would seem stupid to anybody else.”

“Pshaw!”

“No, hear me out. You two need to fall in love.”

“If you ain’t just about the giddiest acting teenage girl I’ve ever come across,” McCoy muttered.

“I’m not the one that needs to be pleased here. It’s you, Bones. You! It's why you're making Spock screw you to death to prove that's NOT what you're wanting! But you are! You are!”

McCoy frowned. “Are you saying that I’m that giddy teenage girl? The one in love with love?”

“The giddiest! Bones, you’re all about romance. You come from the Romantic South. Your parents were in love with each other during their whole marriage. They were the start of your pattern. Then you attended cotillions and regattas and afternoon teas. Everything about your background hollers romance. You’ve always wanted a steady love burning in the background, just like your parents showed you that they shared together. That’s what your background dictates. That’s why you’ve been so disappointed when other relationships fell flat. You felt inadequate. Bones, you aren’t inadequate! Your way of trying to realize your dream is!”

“So, you’re saying that I need to grow up and face reality about relationships?”

“I’m saying that you can have it all with Spock. He’s a blank slate. You can program him any way you wish. You just need to show him.”

“I want him to be his own man! Not some, some, some automaton that bends to my whim!” McCoy blinked and looked thoughtful. “I said it again, didn’t I? What I said before? About him being his own person?”

“Yeah, you did.”

“So, let me get this straight. Even though he and I are on a nightly screwing marathon, I'm not getting out of the relationship what I want."

"Not really."

"Even though I set it up so there would be no commitments, and we could both walk away with no regrets."

"That's wrong."

"That's right! That's the way I planned it!"

"But it's not what you're wanting--"

"Who are you kidding?! Me not getting what I'm really wanting?! He's making me see stars in the daytime and constellations during the night! Why in the hell do you think that's not what I'm wanting?!”

“Alright then. It's not what you're needing."

“I gave up on that kind of bullshit a long time ago."

“No, you didn't, Bones! The wish for it is still with you! It's still in your secret heart! You just need to let it out! Then you'll feel complete!”

McCoy stared at Kirk for a long moment. “Do I really come off as such a romantic asshole?”

Kirk gave him a tolerant smile. “If you do, there's an awful lot of other romantic assholes just like you out there.” He saw a nervous tic mar McCoy's face. "It isn't such a bad dream you have, Bones. You just gotta admit that it's yours."

“I guess I have been fooling myself, haven't I?”

“A lot of other people do the same thing. They fool themselves into thinking that they're above love, that they can have casual sex without any repercussions. But it's an empty experience for guys like you, Bones, because, down deep, your kind plays for keeps."

McCoy grimaced like it was hard information to digest. Then he squinted as if a bright light was bothering his eyes, but Kirk knew that the glare was coming from inside McCoy. "I'm never gonna make it as a Casanova, am I?”

Kirk smiled. "This isn't bad news I'm giving you, Bones. And I think you'll feel better about yourself as soon as you see the truth of all of this for yourself."

“I'm seeing the truth of it all now." He sighed. "Well, I guess my career of love'm and leave'm McCoy is over."

“I believe that it is, too.” He noted McCoy's drained face. "Come on, Bones. This is good news for you," he said, slapping McCoy's arm.

"Maybe for me, but what about Spock? I think he was liking the arrangement we had going for us."

“You just gotta change his mind about all of that, Bones,” Kirk suggested with a wink.

“I don't know--" McCoy started skeptically.

"Come on, Bones. You persuaded him once. You can do it again."

"I don't know. He's liking the routine we've got pretty well the way it is.”

"He likes YOU, Bones ! You! He'll do anything you want.”

"He's his own man!" McCoy insisted.

"He's your man, Bones,“ Kirk retaliated. A muscle worked in Kirk's cheek. "I think you knew this was all wrong before you ever started this madness." He held up his hand and talked through whatever McCoy was going to say. "That's why you so brazenly told me about your plan. It wasn't ethical, and you threw it at me because I represent Ethics to you. You wanted me to talk you out of it because you unconsciously knew it wasn't the real reason why you wanted to lure Spock into a tryst with you." Then in a softer voice, he added, "He's your guy, Bones. And he loves you now. And I believe that you love him, too. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been fooling yourself about why you were doing all this."

McCoy looked at Kirk with his heart in his eyes. Suddenly, he realized that he wanted to believe that Kirk was telling him the truth. And more than anything, he wanted to believe that what Kirk was saying was the truth, the truth for him.

And McCoy could understand another truth, too. The one he'd deceived the most was himself, so it was alright if he paid in heartache for the stupid mistakes he'd committed. But Spock shouldn't have to suffer for McCoy's stupidity. That just wouldn't be fair at all.

And there was always the impossible dream that Spock could be persuaded to change again, too. But McCoy wasn't too hopeful for that to happen. As he'd told Kirk, Spock liked the arrangement. Casual sex exactly fit a guy who didn't want to get his emotions involved in a binding relationship. Why would Spock want anything lasting?


	7. McCoy Makes An Even Worse Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy must explain to Spock that they need to calm down their love life.

Leonard McCoy was so numb by what Jim Kirk had told him that he was not fully aware of leaving Kirk's quarters to go to his own. In the hallways, he acknowledged greetings from passing crew members with a grunt or a brief nod, but a moment later McCoy couldn’t have said whether it had been male or female who had hailed him. And he was a doctor. He was supposed to know the difference in the sexes. Hell, he was supposed to know stuff like that!

He entered his quarters, but all was quiet and dim. Odd, Spock should’ve been back here by now. Not that McCoy was wanting to confront him. In fact, he was dreading it. But delaying it only made it worse for McCoy. Spock was still okay because he didn’t know how things had changed. And how they needed to change more. Maybe, just maybe, they could make it work. Jim had given McCoy hope and a way to dignify all of the chaos that he could now see that he had created.

Then McCoy heard soft, exotic music drifting in from his bedroom, and he knew where Spock was.

Spock had the lighting dim back there, too, but not dim enough so McCoy had any trouble making him out. Spock lounged on the bed with his back braced against the wall. He raised an eyebrow slightly when he saw McCoy. That, along with the rakish smirk on his face, gave him a very devilish appearance. He was the Carnal God of Love awaiting his next intended conquest. Gone was any innocence that Spock had ever displayed. This was Lust Personified lying in wait to ravish McCoy, just the way that Spock knew that McCoy liked to be ravished. And Spock had learned this behavior because he knew that was what McCoy enjoyed having done to him. But now Spock's lips turned up with his own lusts burning. McCoy had taught him well and Spock relished the coming interlude as much as he figured that McCoy would.

McCoy had never seen such a lurid, penetrating, burning stare from Spock before. That showed how much he had fallen, how much that McCoy had caused him to fall, since this whole sordid mess had begun. And it was all McCoy’s fault.

McCoy noticed the smirk that Spock was wearing in particular because that was all that Spock was wearing. Not another stitch covered his green skin. Well, not unless someone counted that white netting wrapped around Spock’s loins as apparel, and McCoy didn’t. It looked like something that Spock had yanked off a window somewhere on the spur of the moment. He must've had a hell of a time tracking something like that down. 

The see-through material was tied in a big looping bow that was riding low over Spock’s torso and seemed to contrast with the dark hair which grew profusely over Spock's naked trunk and limbs. The thin netting did very little to disguise Spock’s sexual organs beneath it. If anything, the netting highlighted Spock's family jewels.

When Spock saw McCoy checking him out, his leer deepened and his barely hidden penis woke up and began to move around as if it was looking for its new home in McCoy's body.

McCoy idly categorized the white dotted netting over Spock as white-on-white dotted Swiss and remembered his great aunt having curtains like that hanging in the dim back parlor that was always cool even on the hottest summer day in Atlanta. He wondered vaguely why he was thinking of Aunt Alta and her quaint, out-of-date furnishings when he had so many other issues to address. McCoy frowned. That’s probably why he was thinking of Aunt Alta, so he wouldn’t have to think about what was going on now.

"Happy Birthday, Leonard," Spock announced in a flirty voice. "Ready to celebrate? I have planned quite an interesting evening for us. I am certain that you will enjoy it very much. I know that I am certainly looking forward to sharing the dark hours with you. Have no fear of being neglected tonight. I plan to be very attentive to you. VERY attentive!"

Don't give a jerk of interest, McCoy ordered to his body as he tried not to look interested in Spock's plans. He took a deep breath for what he had to say next. "It is not my birthday," McCoy mumbled in a flat voice, looking away.

Spock was somewhat deflated, but he gallantly tried again. He was determined to make a jolly evening for them. McCoy must simply be tired and in need of having his interest stirred. And it was Spock's job to stir McCoy's interest. "Merry Christmas then. Either will work well for our celebration." When McCoy didn't answer, Spock experienced a tiny trace of something being wrong. But that couldn't be. He had planned so carefully. This was what he had learned lately that McCoy would enjoy. McCoy had taught him well and Spock was an apt learner.

Spock decided to try once more, but some of the spontaneity had gone out of his plans for him. "Are you not the least bit curious about what I have planned for us to do this evening?"

McCoy did not answer. He simply shook his head slightly. That should have been enough for Spock to realize that something was wrong, but it didn't. Why should it? Spock knew nothing about relationships or subtlety or innuendo. McCoy had never taught him those things, just how to rut out of control.

Spock was determined to continue with his plans for him and McCoy. His eyes sparkled as his lips twitched in evil glee. "Come open your present, Leonard, and see what I have waiting for you."

McCoy was so frustrated. He just wanted Spock to shut up about his plans for a proposed evening of joy. McCoy didn't want to hear it, because he knew it couldn't be. Not anymore. Because it was bad for them, especially Spock. So McCoy resorted to a tactic he knew how to use so very well against Spock: anger, illogical anger. "Oh, stop that stupid shit and get some clothes on!"

Spock's face fell and he automatically spread a protective hand over the white bow and what was below it. "W-what?"

"It isn't my birthday or Christmas or anything stupid like that! It isn't anything! So stop acting so silly!" He could not bear to look at Spock's unbelieving face again. "Just-- just stop it!"

"I, I do not understand--"

"It's over, damn it! It's... it's over!" Then he knew that he had to look fierce so Spock would believe him. And he knew he could not flinch, although it was tearing him up inside to be so mean. But it was kinder to Spock this way. He had to send Spock on his way before he did any more damage to him. He pointed backward toward the door. "Now get the hell outa here with your stupid foolishness!"

Spock's face was aghast as his dark eyes burned into McCoy's. McCoy's burned right back as he willed himself to have the strength he needed to do this.

Spock finally broke the stare, bowed his head, gingerly hoisted himself off McCoy's bed, set the netting aside, pulled on his clothing, and slunk around McCoy without a single word. He probably kept hoping that it was all a sick joke from McCoy and that it would end at any moment. But it did not. That's when Spock knew that McCoy did not want him in his life anymore.

McCoy kept staring at the wall over his now empty bed until he heard the double swish of his door to indicate that Spock had left. All of his resolve dissolved with those sounds, and McCoy slumped as his strength left him. He stared at the rumpled bed as tears stung at his eyelids. The bed, the room, his whole quarters, all seemed so empty now. And it was his own damn fault. He had done a disservice to one of the sweetest people he knew, and now he must pay the consequences.

McCoy wrapped his arms around his abdomen, bent, and slowly sunk onto the bed. It was still warm from Spock's body, but soon that warmth would fade and McCoy would be cold again. He lay on his side and drew his knees toward his face in the fetal position. How he wished he was still an innocent enfant with no cares except to wonder when his doting parents would cuddle or feed him again.

Tears continued to sting at his eyelids, but they would not come. He continued to lie on the bed that had recently known so much loving, but no more. No more. He could have had so much, but now even the opportunity for that was gone.

McCoy buried his face in the sheet and felt the scalding tears begin to run. But they did not soothe him this time or give him any solace.

They just burned.

 

The first that Jim Kirk knew that something was wrong was when he didn't see Spock and McCoy together anymore. And that came as quite a shock because they had just been going through a round of trying to wear each others' skin in public. Now, if you saw one, you did not see the other one. And that indicated that something drastic had happened to their relationship. The other crew members on the Bridge knew something was amiss with them, too, and would not quite look at each other about it. Particularly, they would not meet Kirk's eyes.

Oh, Holy Hell, Kirk thought. Not this again.

Kirk took a deep breath. How come he had the feeling that he was back to Square One?

Maybe because he was.

Kirk pursed his lips as he made a decision. He was going to have to do his Captain thing again. And if that didn't work, his friend thing. Which would be a whole lot harder to do, considering he was behind the eight ball with these guys.

Kirk's eye twitched because there was no guarantee that any tactic would help these guys, no matter what Jim Kirk tried. 

 

"McCoy, I want to see you."

"Not in the mood."

"Not optional. Now."

McCoy huffed his noncompliance, but followed Kirk inside Kirk's quarters. Now he was in for it.

But Kirk changed tactics again. He turned with a friendly smile. "Alright, Bones, what did you do to Spock this time?" he asked in a joking way, trying to keep their meeting light-hearted with gentle banter.

McCoy didn't even try to deny it. "I told him it was over," he answered in a monotone voice.

Kirk sat forward with a crease between his eyes. His bantering voice was gone. "And how did you do that? In the meanest way possible?"

McCoy turned away. "I didn't want him to misinterpret what I was saying. He could twist the hell out of a Sunday School lesson and have the Saints ripping out their long beards." McCoy frowned. "I also thought that it was the kindest way. Swoop in for a swift, clean cut, then get the hell out. He'd bleed, but not for long."

"Yeah, but did you have to gut the guy?"

McCoy grimaced as he looked back at Kirk, but didn't meet his eyes. "I didn't want to leave him dangling, thinking that there might be a chance. It was kinder this way."

"I don't know if any way would have been kinder. Not at this stage of the game."

McCoy held out a hand for understand. "But that's all it was supposed to be, Jim. A game." He looked down. "But he got to taking it too seriously."

"I think you both did."

"But--" McCoy started to object.

"Like I said, guys like you two... you play for keeps." He saw a tic in McCoy's face twitch. "That isn't a bad thing," Kirk said softly with a crooked smile and warmth in his heart for the taciturn doctor who wore his heart on his sleeve. Kirk knew how difficult it must be to be Leonard McCoy. Probably about as difficult as being a certain green alien with an identity crisis. So Kirk was going to help each of them as much as possible. 

McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. "And now I suppose you're going to tell me how I messed up." But his tone wasn't as belligerent as his words. Neither was his pose. It was more defensive than aggressive. So Kirk took all of that as good signs.

"You didn't mess up as much as you ignored."

McCoy uncrossed his arms and shifted in his chair. "Great! Now you're giving me brain teasers! The Vulcan would love this conversation."

"When you set up this new venture with Spock, you left out one important component."

McCoy shifted again. He didn't want to hear, but he couldn't leave. He had to listen because he knew that Kirk would tell him the truth that he'd been hiding from himself. "And that being?"

"Love, Bones. Love."

McCoy shook his head as he continued to squirm. "Romantic hogwash!"

"No it isn't, Bones, and you know it." 

"And I suppose now that I realize the problem, everything will be solved. All will be forgiven, and he and I will rush into each others' arms and confess our mutual remorse as we pledge our undying love for each other."

Kirk flicked his eyebrows and grinned. "Well, that would be a nice ending. You just gotta arrange it."

"Simple as that?" Oh, how he wanted to believe! But, oh, how he knew the realistic outcome!

"You just gotta believe."

McCoy's eyes bugged. Could Kirk read minds now?! Maybe it wasn't a Vulcan thing. Maybe McCoy was the catalyst. Maybe he had the mind that could be easily read, because now Kirk was doing it.

"Believe in yourself and believe in Spock. Believe in the love that has somehow grown between you, despite the premise you set up. Let him know that you're in it for the romance, too. You gotta do something romantic that only he will understand. But it will be a gesture that you need to do to charm your way back to him. The sillier, the better."

McCoy jumped up from his chair and began pacing. "Romantic drivel!" He stopped and pointed a finger at Kirk while his eyes blazed. "And you're the worst one to be dishing it out!"

"Maybe. And maybe I just know the language that it will take for you to understand what I'm saying."

McCoy shook his head, trying to rid himself of all that Kirk was saying.

"You have to convince Spock to take you back."

McCoy's eyes really bugged out. "As if he'd ever do that!"

"He will because he believes in you, too."

McCoy breathed in and out hard a couple of times as thoughts raced wildly through his mind. "And not just because he supposedly loves me?!"

"That's right," Kirk answered with calm assurance.

McCoy bit his lips together as his eyes rolled as wildly as his thoughts. He sucked air in through his opened mouth and felt tears smarting at his eyes. No, he would not bawl! He would not bawl in front of Jim Kirk or anybody else, ever again! Jim Kirk just thought he understood, but he didn't! He didn't!

"Bones...." Kirk said softly. "Don't...."

McCoy turned and stormed out of Kirk's quarters. And that was difficult to do, considering he had to wait for a door to whish open. Old-fashioned doors that could be ripped open and slammed shut with a satisfying bang were much more dramatic. But McCoy made do, and made do nicely. Because his exit was as dramatic and as filled with fuss and feathers and with pinched together lips and blazing eyes as he could muster.

Kirk's door whished shut as efficiently as it ever did, leaving Kirk staring at it in the sudden silence.

Then Kirk finished what he'd been trying to say. "Don't hurt yourself, Bones."

But Kirk had a feeling that McCoy would, simply because he was McCoy. His hurt was bigger because his heart was bigger. And that was McCoy's blessing, as well as his bane.


	8. Walking A Tightrope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim Kirk takes a shot at talking sense to The Great Stone Face.

McCoy stormed out of Kirk's quarters and headed down the corridor with justifiable anger spurring him along the way. What did Kirk mean?! McCoy was at fault?! It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, and it sure as hell wasn't logical! The damn Vulcan was just as guilty as he was! After all, it takes two to tangle! And Spock had definitely been doing his share of tangling! Yes, he knew that the expression was "It takes two to tango!" And, no, he was still right! Because they hadn't just done the tango! They had tangled! Lots! And the damn Vulcan had enjoyed it just as much as he had! McCoy didn't care what anybody said, the Vulcan wasn't lily white! Not by a long shot!

Then McCoy stormed by Spock's door, and he stopped as abruptly as he had been charging headlong with his emotions and dignity all stirred up.

Slowly he turned around with his head down. Finally, he gathered the nerve to raise his head and look without denying what was ahead of him.

Spock's door.

With Spock surely on the other side of it. Sweet, innocent, trusting Spock. Spock who had gone along with McCoy's wishes because he was McCoy's friend and wanted to help him. His only sin was following blindly where McCoy had led him. 

Kirk had been right when he had said that McCoy was at fault. It was fair, it was right, and it sure as hell was logical. Even the Vulcan would agree to that.

But suddenly McCoy didn't care about any of that. He just wanted to make it up to Spock. McCoy had deliberately hurt Spock to end their affair, but McCoy was only now realizing how much he had hurt himself in the process. And now all he wanted was to be on good terms with Spock once more. They didn't have to do anything sexual. He just wanted to have his friend back. And maybe, in time, it might be nice to be able to sleep in Spock's arms once more. Without the sex, if that was what it took. But just so they could cuddle each other and get some decent sleep. Yeah, that would be good. It sounded so soothing. 

McCoy was so tired. He just wanted to be cradled in those warm, loving arms and sleep for a week. And then, maybe, he could awaken and smile up into those dark eyes glowing like warm chocolate at him and luxuriate in the knowledge that he was the reason why those beautiful eyes were glowing. Then he would know that he was truly forgiven and that they could go on from there. For he would know that Spock trusted him again. And that sounded better than the promise and fulfillment of any sexual act could ever be.

McCoy's finger poised over the buzzer. Should he? Shouldn't he? Should he throw his dignity on the ground and beg for forgiveness? Would Spock forgive him? Should he? Could he? Could he be the bigger man and forgive? Had Spock gone against the rules of McCoy's stupid plan and fallen in love? For that was all that could save McCoy now, because McCoy was beyond saving himself.

McCoy shoved his finger against the buzzer and waited. Nothing. But Spock was surely there.

"Spock, it's me."

After a few more empty moments, McCoy slumped against the door. His cheek rested hard against it. The door seemed to be the only thing holding him up. But to McCoy, it represented Spock because it was his door. And if McCoy couldn't be touching Spock, at least he could be cuddled against something that belonged to him.

"Please, Spock, open your door," he pleaded.

McCoy reached up his opposite hand and touched the door as if he could shove his hand through the metal and find the person he was yearning to reach. He pushed himself more firmly against the door as if he was embracing Spock. He squeezed his eyes shut in his desire to reach Spock and have him believe what he was saying to be the truth, the real truth.

"Oh, darlin, I'm sorry. I know I never called you that before, but I'm saying it now. There's a lot more I'm wanting to tell you if you'll just give me the chance." He pinched his eyes shut and tried to remember to breathe. But he was so afraid that Spock wouldn't answer him and that he had lost his chance with him. That's all that concerned him now.

Still nothing.

"Please, Spock, let me in. I know you're in there. I just want to say that I'm sorry." His eyelids began to burn again. "So terribly sorry. I should've never hurt you, and I'm sorry that I did." He paused, but got no response. His body shook as he took a deep, shuddering breath. If the door opened now, he would fall inward because he was leaning on it so hard.

Of course Spock couldn't hear him. Even if he was inside, he couldn't hear McCoy. Even Vulcan hearing wasn't good enough to hear through metal.

After a few moments, McCoy pulled himself up and stared at the door. He stroked it a few times with his fingertips, just as he'd like to be running his fingers gently up and down Spock's naked chest. Still no answer came, so then even McCoy had to admit defeat. Spock just didn't want to give him a chance.

McCoy didn't blame him. McCoy knew that he didn't deserve a chance. After all, hadn't he stopped Spock from his opportunity to entertain McCoy with the piece of white dotted Swiss material? Spock wasn't being mean now. He was simply doing to McCoy what McCoy had done to him. Tit for tat. What's good for the goose is good for the gander. McCoy shouldn't wonder about Spock's motives for acting the way he did. It was simple justice. Someone else might call it revenge. Whatever it was, it was Spock's decision. And McCoy had to accept it as Spock had had to accept McCoy's decision to order him out of his quarters and out of his life.

Granted, Spock might not be in residence. Whatever, McCoy decided that it was ended for good now. He stepped away from Spock's door, turned around, and headed toward the turbo lift with bowed head. As far as McCoy was concerned, their affair wasn't the only thing that was ended. He might as well be dead, because that was the way he was feeling. It would take an awfully lot for life to be worth living again.

Inside Spock's quarters, Spock's frown deepened. Spock had frowned all through McCoy's soliloquy. He had not quite understood McCoy's words, but he had heard the tone of them. So McCoy was repentant. Did that make a difference to Spock? Should he let it make a difference to him? McCoy was the man who had hurt him so much. Could Spock put his anger and hurt aside to forgive? McCoy had always wanted Spock to feel. Well, now he was feeling, feeling all sorts of emotions that he did not want to feel. Yes, he was angry by what McCoy had done to him. Yes, he was hurt. But a part of him had wanted to open the door and take the repentant McCoy in his arms and forgive him anything. But a part of him made him remember his pride. McCoy had hurt him once, he well might have it in him to hurt Spock again.

No, Spock decided, it was better that he had not answered McCoy's pleas. But that brought fresh pain to Spock. For when you love someone as much as he loved McCoy, you hurt when he hurts. Even when he has betrayed your trust and your love, your heart still bleeds with his.

Yes, he was in love with Leonard McCoy, and he was only beginning to realize how much. For while it was sex that had intensified Spock's interest in McCoy, it was McCoy himself who had won over Spock's heart and soul. Spock squeezed his own eyes closed against the pain enveloping him. His heart and soul were mourning the loss of a love that Spock had never figured he would ever know. And now that precious love was lost to him forever. For how could he ever trust Leonard McCoy again?

Jim Kirk paused outside the door to his quarters. He had just stepped outside and had seen the door to the turbo lift slide shut on the dejected McCoy. McCoy should have been gone a long time ago. That meant only one thing: McCoy must have tried to approach Spock and had failed in his attempt. His very demeanor told Kirk that much.

Kirk sucked his breath in sharply. Oh, Holy Hell, this situation was going to take more meddling on his part. And this time, he'd have to confront the Vulcan.

He wished himself luck with that one.

 

Kirk endured it for one rotation of shifts, somehow optimistically thinking that something would happen on its own to cause a spontaneous healing of the situation. Of course that didn't happen.  Granted, odd things did happen, but not that. One involved Christine Chapel showing up on the Bridge and standing around looking quite nervous.

"May I help you, Chapel?" Kirk finally asked from the conn.

"Oh, that's alright, Captain," she answered with a flighty toss of her hand. "Carry on with what you normally do. Pretend I'm not even here."

Kirk gave her a tight smile. "That will be difficult to do, Nurse, since you are obviously here. Now apparently you have a reason to be here, would you mind stating it please?"

Chapel looked wild because she was the victim of conflicting orders, but Kirk was the captain so he won out. "I'm just observing."

"Observing what?" Kirk wanted to know. By now he was using a very low, steady voice as one would use with a flighty child.

"The behavior of the crew on duty and how stress or monotony affects each one."

"That's the duty of the CMO," Kirk reminded her, but figured she knew that and had probably used it herself in a similar discussion with McCoy just recently.

"I am acting on his behalf," she murmured with her head down.

Kirk recognized a rote answer when he heard one. She was probably quoting McCoy word for word. Kirk let her stay and decided to overlook the bending of the rules. Perhaps it was better than getting a reluctant McCoy in the vicinity of an ice-cold Vulcan. Kirk considered it as part of his responsibility to the rest of the crew. Otherwise, everyone on the Bridge might suffer frostbite if Spock and McCoy might chance to meet there. Kirk couldn't chance having Nuclear Winter overtake the Bridge. Some real villains, like pissed-off Romulans with a personal axe to grind, might show up, for heaven's sake. How could the stalwart crew of the Enterprise engage a foe if every one was iced up?

Finally, Chapel left the Bridge much to everyone's relief. It had probably been one of her roughest shifts, too, but she would do anything for McCoy. Even if it upset her and everyone else she came across as she was performing her duty.

It even began to wear on Spock who of course did not show it outwardly. So it came as a surprise to Kirk when Spock approached him and abruptly announced, "I believe that I will be unable to serve during the rest of this shift, Captain. With your permission, I wish to relieve myself of my commitment. I find that I would be more of a detriment than an asset."

"Well, of course, Commander, if that's the way that you feel about the situation," Kirk stumbled all over himself to say. He frowned. "Will you be okay? Do you want anyone to look in on you?" He thought of Chapel who had recently performed such a chore for Spock and McCoy, but then Kirk decided that Chapel had suffered enough angst for one day by having to monitor the Bridge crew.

"No, Captain, I will confine myself to my quarters where I will rest," Spock clarified quickly as visions of Chapel appearing at his door flashed through his mind also.

Kirk nodded his head with a jerk, then he watched as Spock walked away.

The door to the turbo lift closed on Spock, and a collective sigh seemed to go around the Bridge. Chekov and Sulu exchanged glances of sympathy for him. Spock had looked so dejected.

"The poor lamb!" Uhura commiserated. "He looks so sad!"

Kirk glanced at her and could see that the tears standing in her eyes were threatening to roll down her cheeks at any moment.

"She will be alright, Captain," Scotty said from nearby. "The wee lass has a tender heart, that's all." He sniffed loudly and turned aside before Kirk could see his own tears.

Great, Kirk thought. The whole damn Bridge is gonna start bawling next, me included. Fine bunch of space cowboys we are!

That night, Kirk did not walk through their common bathroom and visit Spock. He respected Spock's privacy and decided to give him as much space as he needed.

The next day, Spock was back on duty. But he was very quiet and very unapproachable. The shift passed in routine matters. Nothing exciting happened, and there were no interruptions like a visit from McCoy or even a burst of emotion from anyone on the Bridge crew. Everyone performed at their peak efficiency, and the Enterprise behaved like the sweet little lady that she was. There wasn't even a haughty space alien to fend off or a major crisis such as someone in danger of getting sucked into space to face a horrendous death.

Jim Kirk hadn't been so bored on the deck of a Starship in a long time. Something had to change, and fast.

 

But Kirk did find something he could use as an excuse to "chat" with Mr. Spock that evening. So Kirk knocked on Spock's door from their adjoining bathroom.

"Come in, Jim," Spock greeted. 

Kirk entered to find Spock adjusting his meditation robes. A mat lay at Spock's bare feet. "Meditating?" he asked, knowing he probably sounded like an idiot. Of course, Spock had been mediating. He certainly hadn't been painting his quarters or frosting a cake. Now Kirk understood how McCoy must sometimes feel when caught between Spock's logic and the undeniable proof to substantiate Spock's viewpoint. White lies that were so handy for imperfect humans to use in social situations had no place in Spock's world. Spock could skewer Kirk before he had gotten out more than one word.

But Spock was gracious. Kirk was his captain, not a certain doctor who had wronged him. "Just finishing, Jim," Spock said pleasantly. "Please, be seated. Would you care for some refreshment?"

"No, I won't keep you," Kirk said as he sat down. "I wanted an official word, actually."

"Oh? Concerning what, Captain?" And they had swung into Captain/First Officer mode just like that. "If it is about yesterday--"

Kirk waved him aside. "We all need a breather once in awhile."

"Thank you for understanding."

"But I'd have to be concerned if that type of behavior continued."

"That would be understandable, sir." Spock frowned. "Are you finding more reason to be concerned?"

"You seemed a little quiet on duty today."

Spock's frown deepened. "I did not perform to your expectations?"

"No, no, not that. You just gave some pretty short answers, that's all." Kirk smiled pleasantly to show he held no rancor. "I did not realize that there were so many words and phrases containing only one syllable. It got so I paid more attention to see if you could keep it up. And, by golly, you did."

"Sir?"

"See? That's one of them now. So is 'Yes, Sir,' and 'No, Sir,' and 'If you say so, Sir.' And that was it, all through our shift together. I would've been really concerned if you'd kept it up. But just now you used 'expectations.' Wow! Four syllables! I knew I needn't be worried anymore. At least not off duty. There still may be a problem while we are interrelating officially. We don't want to sound like a Dick and Jane reader now, do we? You know, 'Oh, Oh. See Spot run. Funny, funny Spot.' Oops," Kirk said with an apologetic grin. "The word 'funny' has two syllables, doesn't it?"

Spock's frown deepened. "Are you making fun of me, Captain?"

"No. And you can go back to calling me 'Jim,'" Kirk said softly as he looked at Spock fondly. "We're allowed, seeing as how we're buddies and all, and we're off-duty now."

Spock let his eyes do part of the talking for him, also. "I do appreciate everything, Jim. You are a good friend to me."

"You're a good friend to me, too, Spock," Kirk said in a husky voice. Then he slapped Spock's upper arm in a friendly way before it really got mushy between them. "There you go." For some reason, Spock could understand when Kirk used slang, but not McCoy. Kirk believed that there was really a feeling of camaraderie between them, so he had the courage to take the plunge and address what else was on his mind. "And I also want you to get this mess straightened out with McCoy."

Spock visibly stiffened. "Captain--"

And we're back, Kirk thought. But he plunged ahead anyway.

"He's sorry, Spock. You don't know how much he's sorry."

"Then why did he do it?"

"I don't know what he did exactly to hurt you. And I don't need to know," he said talking through whatever Spock was going to say, whether it was to object or to tell Kirk what had happened. "He did something wrong, and he's paying for it. But you're doing something wrong by not giving him the chance to make it up to you."

"What if I cannot?"

"Then you're wrong." Spock turned away and Kirk talked fast before he lost him completely. "Spock, humans make mistakes. All humans. We're an imperfect species. And we'd all get mired down in our failures if it wasn't for the fact that other imperfect humans grant us forgiveness." Kirk could see reluctance on Spock's face, but Spock wasn't stopping him so Kirk took that as a sign to continue. "Spock, we all have souls, whether we're humans, non-humans, or something in-between as you are. For the sake of your soul, forgive him." He paused a moment, then added softly. "And for the sake of your heart, do it, too."

"My heart?" Spock echoed.

Kirk smiled. "You see, you and McCoy got something else good working for you. The feelings you have for each other. You like and respect each other on so many different levels. You've both worked too hard on your unique relationship to let it go. You can't throw all of that away now just because of a little slipup."

"A little slipup?! Captain, do you know what he did--"

"A lot of it, I do. But he isn't being tested at the moment. You are. And I don't want you coming out of this lacking in what it takes."

"How can you have so much faith in me?" Spock whispered.

"Because I know my friend is kind and sweet and just. I know that you have a good heart, even if your blood isn't the same color as mine." Kirk wiped the smile off his face and touched his chest, then Spock's. "Inside, inside of us, we are the same." His eyes sparkled with his high regard. "And I know that you will do what is right."

Spock bowed his head and pursed his lips together.

"You love him so many different ways," Kirk said softly. "And love forgives. Because that's all you can do."

Spock raised his head. Tears were sparkling in his dark eyes. "And how many times will I need to do that?"

"As many times as it takes. Because that's what love does, too."

Spock drew himself up. "I will think on all that you have told me, Captain."

Kirk stood up, knowing that his audience was over. "That's all that I can ask of you, Commander."

 

"He won't listen to me, Jim. He won't even let me in the door."

"I think I know a way you can get around that. But you'll be on your own from then on. I think I've done about all I can do except abandon you two on an ice planet alone for a year and the only way you can survive is to rely on each other."

"Surely we won't have to do anything that drastic. I just need to get in the door." He heard Kirk grunt his acceptance of that, also. "I think I've got something figured out that would be a significant gesture to impress him."

"Well, good luck," Kirk said, slapping his upper arm.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Thanks. I'll need it." McCoy heaved a deep sigh. "Boy, will I be needing it!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third anniversary of my joining AO3. Thank you for celebrating with me and for allowing me to be your Special Star Lady.


	9. Love Forgives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Spock allow McCoy to ask for forgiveness?

Spock was just rising from another futile effort on his meditation mat. Even after stripping down to nothing but a short, skimpy robe to free his body of confining clothing, Spock still was not able to prepare his troubled mind for the abstract thinking which he felt would bring serenity back into his life once more. Maybe Kirk was right. Maybe Spock would not get any good out of higher thought until he had brought his worldly life into harmony with itself. Maybe he needed to make peace with McCoy for more than one reason. But he had no idea of how to approach McCoy and still keep his dignity.

He was thinking so hard about his relationship problems that he absently answered the knock on his bathroom door. Good. Perhaps some distraction was what he was needing. "Come in, Jim."

The door opened to reveal McCoy who looked hesitant and did not step into Spock's quarters.

Spock blinked as he recognized McCoy, the person he was not knowing how to approach. And suddenly McCoy appeared as if by some special messenger. Had something in the cosmos realized Spock's turmoil and answered his need, as if answering a prayer? Spock could not believe that any omnipresent god was granting him wishes now, but it did make Spock wonder about the coincidence of it all.

Then Spock seemed to remember himself and that he had been wronged by McCoy. He had the right to act like the injured party, and apparently McCoy felt the same way by the ingratiating look on his face.

Then Spock took a second look at McCoy, and a startling fact about McCoy's appearance registered that hadn't before. An awful lot of bare skin looked back at him.

Spock frowned as he stared at McCoy's clothing, or rather at the lack of it. "What are you doing wearing nothing but that piece of white-on-white dotted Swiss material around your midsection?"

"It kept sliding off my head," McCoy answered lamely with a stupid, lopsided grin on his face.

"Come on, Doctor. You did not attempt to don that scrap as a hair ornament." Spock sat down and pulled his short meditation robe primly around his knees.

McCoy shrugged with a self-deprecating look on his face. "My attempt at humor."

"Not funny, Doctor."

"Not intended to be."

"I expect the captain was amused by your costume."

"Jim didn't see it. He left awhile ago, saying something about bunking in with some new yeoman. There always seems to be one of those around to distract him and take him in outa the cold night air." McCoy shivered. "Speaking of cold night air, there's a helluva breeze stirred up with this door being open. I'm surprised that you haven't started bitching about a cold wave hitting your quarters, especially dressed the way you are," he said with a nod of acknowledgement at Spock's skimpy robe.

"I am quite comfortable over here on this side of the room, thank you for your concern," he said smugly, then studied his fingernails as if they had become the most fascinating objects he had seen all day.

"Come on, Spock! Have a heart! Are you gonna let me in? It's chilly with this draft swirling around my naked butt."

"As you wish," Spock mumbled, looking aside with a bored look on his face. "If I do not allow it now, you will probably appear on the Bridge in this state of undress just so you could embarrass me. Obviously you are beyond that concern for yourself," he added as an aside, almost to himself.

"No, I wouldn't show up on the Bridge or anywhere else in public looking like this," McCoy said in a solemn voice as he walked across the room to stand in front of Spock. "This view is for your eyes only and always will be."

Spock's eyes swept up McCoy's body, avoiding the scantily clad torso area. "And you believe that I would wish to see you in such a disrobed condition, either in public or especially alone in my quarters?"

"Oh, yes," McCoy breathed as he sank down in front of Spock, forcing Spock's legs apart as he did so. He very pointedly did not look down at Spock's revealed naked nether regions as objectively as Spock had avoided ogling his nakedness. "I believe that you would like to look at this sight for the rest of our lives. I further believe that you won't be able to help but look."

Spock raised one eyebrow. "You have a very high opinion of your power over me."

"Oh, no, I have a very high opinion of the feeling that will hold us together. It's a good feeling and I want to explore it more with you." McCoy's face sobered as he solemnly looked up into Spock's eyes. "I was wrong, Spock, so awfully wrong. I should've never tried to leave love outa any relationship between us."

"Love?" Spock echoed with a calm voice and a placid face. "That is one of those pesky Earthling emotions that causes your species so much trouble, is it not?" he asked in a slightly mocking voice.

The Vulcan was not going to sidetrack him with a discussion about the difference between Earthlings and Vulcans. "Yeah, love," McCoy stated stoutly. "Because, crazy as it seems, we just can't be indifferent about each other. We kinda fit together, and I want to keep on fitting together with you for a long time." He got a beseeching look on his face. "What do you say about all of that? Could you ever forgive me and give me another chance? I'd sure like to prove to you that I could treat you different. I'd sure like to love you up the way you deserve and the way that I've been missing like hell since it stopped. But this time the kisses would stem from my heart and the sighs from me would be because you're doing it to me just the way I like it. And you could trust me when I say that I love you because I do. I never told you that before, but I'm telling you now. I love you. And I hope that you can come to love me in time, too."

Spock studied McCoy's earnest face.

Spock's quiet calmness was beginning to bother McCoy.

"Look, I know I shouldn't even be asking for decent treatment from you--" Then he gasped as Spock's hands roughly grabbed McCoy's upper arms in a tight grip.

The sudden pain made McCoy's eyes bug out in startled concern. "Go ahead. Do what you will, 'cause I probably deserve it. But if you're gonna kill me, make it fast. 'Cause dying's nothing compared to this. I don't wanna live alone like this anymore."

A pleasant look came over Spock's face. "And why do you believe that I would wish to do so, either?" he asked with a sly smile as he relaxed his hold on McCoy's arms, but did not release him.

"Got any plans for the immediate future? You know, on how to remedy your own lonely situation?" McCoy asked in a slightly asinine voice. He didn't want to let on how important all of this was to him.

"That depends on a lot of factors."

"Do I figure in any of your plans?" McCoy wanted to know with a nonchalance he really wasn't feeling.

Spock's face darkened. "Why would you ask anything like that?"

"Well, I was kinda hoping, you know, that you might like, or wouldn't mind, if I was tagging along somewhere close to your whereabouts." He shrugged when he saw Spock's stare deepen. "But if you're not in the notion for something like that-- You know, where you and I might happen to wind up in the same place all of the time--"

"You are rambling, Doctor."

"Well, sorry, but it's kinda distracting being this close to you without anything really interesting going on between us." He got an earnest look on his face. "Know what I mean?" He sucked in his breath and his eyes enlarged as Spock's fingers dug into his biceps again.

"Leonard, you are doing it again. You never had a rambling speech pattern before."

"Sorry. I really don't know what I should be saying here--"

"Why not let me do some of the talking?"

"Well, that might be a good idea, seeing as how I'm not getting anywhere...."

Then McCoy gasped again as Spock lifted him up in his strong hands and left him dangling a moment while McCoy panicked, then set him gently in his lap.

McCoy squirmed, partly in relief, partly in amazement of his new seating arrangements. "Didn't exactly know what was gonna happen there for a minute."

"That is what I intend doing from now on, Doctor. Keeping you guessing." Spock sighed. "This is, of course, when I am not trying to figure out what you are doing." He frowned as McCoy squirmed on his lap. "Speaking of which, why can you not sit still? You are more restless than a three-old-child."

"You'd squirm, too, if you had my problem!" And to prove his point, he twisted around some more.

Spock realized one thing for certain. If McCoy kept moving around on his lap the way he was, something of Spock's would be poking him in his bare butt in a very short time. And Spock did not know if either one of them was ready for an interlude like that. A lot more needed to be discussed. So Spock tried to take his mind off the promptings of his primitive nether regions and concentrate on the juvenile Earthling on his lap.

"Just what is your problem, Doctor?" Spock tried to ask as deadpan as he could.

"This damn dotted Swiss is scratching my butt! I'd never tried sitting down in it before. How did you stand wearing it? Didn't it bother you?"

"I was not thinking about my skimpy garment. I had other things on my mind."

"You must have really good mind control." McCoy squirmed again. "Maybe I shouldn't have had starch added to the material."

"Starch? No wonder it is bothering your bare skin."

"I wanted it to look nice. That's what Aunt Alta did to her curtains in the back parlor."

"Leonard, you are not a window frame in a Victorian home in Atlanta, Georgia."

"Now you tell me. I just wanted the material to stand out nicely like Aunt Alta's curtains did. Why didn't you put starch in the material so it would stand out?"

"I believed that I did not need starch to make the netting stand out."

McCoy had the grace to blush. Had that deadpan Vulcan just said what McCoy thought he had said? Was Spock baiting him? Possibly TEASING him? Maybe even FLIRTING?! Spock?! Then McCoy winced as he squirmed from his clothing problem. "Damn netting is scratching the hell outa me!"

"Then supposing you take it off."

McCoy studied the Vulcan, just to see what was really going on. "Only if you take off your meditation robe." It was almost a dare.

Spock studied him for a few moments, too. "Alright." He loosened the belt, leaned back, shook his shoulders, and allowed the silken meditation robe to slide off his arms to puddle behind him. He watched for McCoy's reaction.

McCoy swallowed hard as his eyes ogled all of that bare green skin just inches away from his yearning lips. He knew how it was to kiss that spot right in front of him and that spot over there. He knew the taste of that skin, indeed the unique flavor of all that wonderful body. "Looking good, Vulcan," McCoy mumbled when he finally could. "I guess I'd kinda forgotten just how good you can look."

Spock was a little disappointed. He figured he'd get more reaction out of McCoy than that. McCoy had always acted pretty excited about Spock's nakedness before.

McCoy's eyes had gotten a hooded look about themselves as their lids began to lower. Spock tried to tell himself that was simple lust building in McCoy. Then McCoy yawned hugely and broke all kinds of illusions.

That piqued Spock's disdain. He thought that he was better looking than that. "Am I boring you, Doctor?" He did not even try to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

McCoy looked like he could barely keep his eyes open. "No, I'm just so tired. I haven't been able to sleep. I guess that it's finally catching up with me."

"I have not been able to sleep, either. I propose that we do something about that. Maybe we could both rest if you allow me to spoon you."

McCoy gave him a weary smile. "Just like always? Sounds good." He touched Spock's shoulder. "But first, could we do something else before we go to sleep? To relax us?"

Spock looked disgusted. "Really, Leonard? You want us to do something of a sexual nature?"

"Yeah, but just a little something. A kiss," McCoy said shyly as he looked up into Spock's eyes. "An Earthling kiss. So I can know that this is really happening."

"You do not believe that this is happening? If you do not believe, then why should I?"

McCoy lowered his head. He had asked for too much. But he had come so far.... And then to have Spock deny him. But McCoy didn't blame him. It was what McCoy deserved after what he had done to Spock.

But McCoy could not stand it. He could not bear to look into Spock's eyes. He knew that he might as well scoot off Spock's lap and slink away, just as Spock had had to slink away from his presence once.

"What is the trouble?" Spock wanted to know in a concerned voice.

McCoy was too full of emotion to speak. He simply shook his head in defeat.

Spock shook him slightly. "Leonard? Tell me what is wrong."

"You're going to send me away. Just as I sent you away."

"Have I said that?"

"You don't have to. I don't deserve any better treatment."

"Why not put that behind us and go forward?"

McCoy shook his head. "It wouldn't be right to you if we forgot what happened."

"I did not say to forget it. I said to put it behind us."

McCoy lowered his head. He could not believe that Spock could be that generous, that forgiving.

"Leonard? What is wrong now?"

McCoy just shook his head.

Spock hooked his index finger under McCoy's chin and pulled his head up. Spock could see the tears threatening to spill out of McCoy's eyes. His lips were trembling.

"I don't deserve you," McCoy whispered as he searched Spock's dark, but warm eyes. That was all he could get out because he did not trust his voice to say anything more.

"Be that as it may, Doctor," Spock said dryly. "You seem to have me."

McCoy's mouth curled back in a trembling smile as a couple of tears slid down his cheeks.

"Now, as you were saying about your desire to receive an Earthling kiss from me."

Any more of this and McCoy was going to start bawling all over the both of them. But he managed to hold it together for another moment.

"Yeah, and I'm still wanting it," McCit murmured as his eyes flicked over the face that was becoming more beloved to him by the moment. He attempted a smile that nonetheless quivered and still threatened to break the dam holding back an ocean of tears from his eyes. Then the smile touched his eyes. "Make me see constellations in the daytime, Vulcan. Make me think that Mars just exploded."

Spock began to smile, too. "I can grant that wish." His lips gently touched McCoy's and he heard McCoy sigh. "Seeing constellations colliding yet?"

"Oh, yeah," McCoy murmured in a contended voice. "I think you just took out a whole nebula. Wanna try to destroy another part of the universe? I'm sure as hell willing!" He held his mouth up for more kissing.

But Spock held back for a moment. "And now I will grant the wish I made to myself." Spock started a kiss, then deepened it. He heard McCoy whimper his approval. That pleased Spock a great deal. He was beginning to like Earthling kissing very much, especially since it seemed to have such an effort on McCoy.

"Oh, hell, I've missed this!" McCoy mumbled against Spock's lips as he came up for air.

"Shut up, Leonard," Spock mumbled back, then tightened his arms around McCoy.

McCoy pulled back and he gave Spock a meek look. "I'm so sorry. For everything. I was wrong--"

"You have stated that before." Spock took another dive for McCoy's mouth.

But McCoy stopped him. He searched the dark eyes studying him so calmly. "You trust me? I might mess up again. How will you ever know for sure, with me in this relationship with you? I might prove to be just one gigantic pain in the ass for you."

"I thought that was what I was to you," Spock said wryly.

"Now the Vulcan gets a sense of humor," McCoy muttered. "I'm serious!"

"So am I."

"But-- something might go wrong for us--"

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it."

McCoy's eyes enlarged. "You just used an idiom! And it had nothing to do with farm animals!"

Spock beamed proudly. "See, Leonard? I am learning."

McCoy felt tears spring into his eyes as he closed them and leaned forward to touch his forehead against Spock's. "You are such a wonderful person," he said softly.

"So are you, Doctor. You just have to realize it. And I intend to help you do just that." And to prove his faith in McCoy, Spock drew McCoy down for another kiss that became more heated the longer it lasted.

McCoy finally reached down to undo the dotted Swiss material that was tied around his waist. Damn, that Vulcan was a good kisser! And he was tired of being distracted by that itchy sash. Besides, he wanted Spock to have free access for his roving hands that were exploring under the bow.

McCoy had gotten a new shot of energy from all the loving. In fact, he decided that maybe he wasn't so tired after all. Maybe they could get down and dirty and make each other glad they were born. He had been aching for several days to get at Spock with his hands, his mouth, his whole body, his whole being--

"Shut up, Leonard. I am hearing everything that you are thinking. And it is very suggestive."

"What am I thinking now?!" McCoy demanded, pulling his head back with a snarl of mounting passion.

Spock raised an eyebrow with a sly grin. "Your wish is my command, Leonard. I will do my best to fulfill it."

The Vulcan succeeded and then some. Both of them went to sleep with happy smiles on their faces. The meditation robe and the piece of white dotted Swiss material lay crumbled and ignored where they had been tossed on the floor. The two on the bed would not be needing any clothing for a long time to come.

 

Kirk had no idea of what the significant gesture might be that McCoy must make. But Kirk was pretty sure of what it's outcome would be, especially since he had found a pile of McCoy's clothing on his easy chair. Wherever McCoy was, he was naked. Kirk stepped in the bathroom and glanced at Spock's door. All was quiet on the other side. Well, that's as it should be, Kirk decided. Even lovebirds have to rest sometime. Or they could be very, very quiet with what they were doing.

Yes, sir, Kirk thought as he settled back with a smile on his face. If he knew his two best friends at all (and he was pretty certain that he did), they were even now making up the time they had lost while not being in each others' arms. Even if it was just sleeping.

And Jim Kirk had a sneaking hunch that it involved more than that activity.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of Star Trek, its characters, and/or its story lines.


End file.
